


Death's Play

by CassandraRose



Series: Kingmaker [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Apocalypse, Multi, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:28:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28781265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassandraRose/pseuds/CassandraRose
Summary: The death of the archangel Azrial and the maiming of archangels Michael, Lucifer, Raphael, and Gabriel sent ripples throughout the human world. Angel Radio is silent, demons aren't making deals, and monsters are oddly quiet. There is a storm brewing on the horizon as the apocalypse comes to a standstill, but how long will the shakey peace last?Arc 2 of the Kingmaker Series
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Crowley/Bobby Singer, Crowley/Bobby Singer/OC, Crowley/OC, Ellen Harvelle/Bobby Singer (ends), Gabriel/Sam Winchester
Series: Kingmaker [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1867615
Comments: 13
Kudos: 16





	1. Convention Blues

**Author's Note:**

  * For [geethr75](https://archiveofourown.org/users/geethr75/gifts).



> Hello, my lovelies! Welcome back to the Kingmaker Universe. Arc 2 will consist of 12 chapters and one bonus scene at the end. Updates will be every Saturday, but I was going to be busy tomorrow so wanted to get this show on the road tonight.
> 
> Just like last time, CW/TW will be handled by chapter. 
> 
> A general warning: this Arc is a bit more angsty and deals with different types of mourning per the end of Arc 1. 
> 
> Obligatory "I don't own Supernatural" note here that won't be repeated again.
> 
> Enjoy!

_ January 15, 2010 _

Sam groaned and rolled over to grope for his phone that buzzed on the nightstand. He squinted and looked down at the message. His sleep muddled brain took several seconds to process what he was reading, and he shot out of bed when it clicked.

“Dean. Dean, wake up!” Sam demanded, chucking a pillow at his brother’s head. Dean shot up, a knife in his hand but Sam ignored that as he got out of bed. He was already pulling on his pants when he noticed Castiel was sitting on the floor, at the foot of his brother’s bed, half asleep.

“The hell-?” Sam began, but Dean was already crawling down the bed to tap Castiel on the shoulder. The angel woke with a start and shook his head as he looked between the two of them.

“Is something wrong?” Castiel asked, sleep still clinging to his voice.

“No clue, man. Sammy just chucked a pillow at my head and demanded I get up.” Dean whined, and both turned toward him. It was almost comical the matching annoyed looks he was getting, but Sam stayed focused.

“I just got a message from Chuck. There’s an issue in Toledo, and he may be in danger.”

Castiel’s eyes focused quicker than Dean’s, and the angel was on his feet a second later.

“We must go then. With Heaven locked down, there is a chance Chuck’s guard isn’t actually watching him anymore.” 

That seemed to be all Dean needed to hear, and his brother was up and getting dressed as well. Sam started packing up their bags, glad that the hunt here had been a bust. 

“You got the address?” Dean asked, ducking into the bathroom to grab the last of their stuff. Sam caught his toiletry bag with one hand as he answered.

“Yeah, it’s gonna be a four-hour drive. Hopefully, he’s sensing the danger coming and it’s not already there.” 

“It’s possible,” Castiel agreed as he pulled a sweatshirt over his head. Sam was still adjusting to seeing the angel dress like a hunter, and from time to time he found himself doing a double-take. “Prophets have surprisingly good survival instincts, but they are still human. With Heaven locked down, there may be demons out for his life.”

Sam hoped that wasn’t the case, but they wouldn’t know until they got to Toledo. Knowing how Dean drove when pressed for time, they’d definitely make it in under four hours.

**Line Break**

Dean felt his eyebrow twitching as he looked around the parking lot. There were Impalas lining the area, flannel as far as the eye could see, and multiple people pretending to be  _ him _ and  _ Sam _ .

He was going to shoot Chuck and then shoot him  _ again _ for good measure.

“Dean,” Castiel said his name slowly, and Dean could hear the annoyance in the angel’s voice. “What is this?”

“This is going to be the reason I kill a goddamn prophet,” Dean growled back. It was a testament to Castiel’s annoyance that he didn’t try and soothe his temper. Sam didn’t appear to be in a better mood and began looking around for Chuck. Sam was halted by a squealing human-shaped missile crashing into him, and Dean paled as he recognized the blonde-haired woman. 

“Cas,” he muttered. “Fly me the hell out of here.”

Castiel frowned. “You know I cannot-” Castiel didn’t get the chance to finish, as despite her small stature Becky dragged Sam over to them. Her eyes zeroed in on Castiel, and Dean wanted to run for the hills.

“Oh my-” she squealed, never loosening her vice-like grip on Sam’s arm. “You must be Castiel! I never expected  _ you _ to come when I texted Sam.”

Dean felt a cold fury wash over him as he narrowed his eyes on the obsessive woman. “ _ You _ texted Sam? What the hell, Becky? We’re trying to lie low!”

She pouted but seemed slightly cowed by his temper as she stepped back slightly to use Sam as a shield. Castiel put a hand on his shoulder, and Dean took a deep breath. Think happy thoughts. Like how drunk he was going to get after this insanity passed.

“I just thought,” she gnawed her lip, and looked down. “I just thought you’d both like to see this. Chuck worked so hard to set it all up.”

Dean was about to kill that theory, but they were once more interrupted. “Sam? Dean? What are you both doing here?”

Dean turned to look at Chuck, and he raised an eyebrow at the man’s disheveled appearance. He almost looked a bit spooked at seeing them there. Chuck looked like he hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in a week, though his eyes were still sharply aware. They lingered on Castiel for a moment but seemed to dismiss him as unimportant as he turned to Becky.

“Becky, why are you hanging on Sam?” Chuck asked, a mild annoyance creeping into his voice. Becky dropped Sam’s arm like it was on fire, and moved toward Chuck with a smile.

“I wanted to surprise you! Now that Sam and Dean are here the convention will really take off.” 

Her defense seemed to fall flat, even to Chuck. The man sighed and looked seriously at them. Dean wondered what had changed since the last time they saw him. The man had been a bit of a buffoon if he was being honest. Chuck just didn’t seem to take his role overly seriously, and it sometimes got him in trouble. Now though, it looked like the man had aged a decade in less than a year. 

“Chuck, is something wrong? You look exhausted.” Dean asked, and the man winced and rubbed the back of his head with a small smile.

“Just overworked. My uh,” he paused and sighed again. “My publisher was up my ass all last week. I’ve been working non-stop.” 

The explanation sounded off somehow, but Dean let it go. If those damn books were the reason Chuck was feeling like shit, then he wasn’t getting any sympathy. 

Castiel focused on the man for a moment and softly offered, “I could try and heal you. It may be more than exhaustion.”

Chuck shook his head, and his smile was softer this time. “I know you shouldn’t be using your powers, Castiel. Prophet, remember?”

Castiel shrugged but didn’t press the matter. Sam seemed to be done with the situation and quickly cut in. “So, you’re fine here? Nothing to worry about?”

Chuck seemed to hesitate and then stepped closer after looking around. “There is an issue here, but you could probably take care of it relatively quickly.”

Dean frowned, “What’s going on?”

“I didn’t know this before I got here, but there are several ghosts in the hotel. There isn’t anything I can do about the convention now. Honestly, they’d think it was just some dramatic role play.”

“What’s a role play?” Castiel asked, even as Dean started mulling over what they could do about the situation. Chuck was spot on about that, and he shot a look at Sam. His brother’s face was pinched with worry and he nodded in understanding. They didn’t have a choice. They didn’t walk away from hunts, especially when there were so many bystanders that could get caught up in the chaos.

“We’ll take care of it,” Sam said, and Dean snorted at the starstruck look that entered Becky’s eyes. “Anything you know about the center?”

Chuck shrugged. “All I know is that it used to be an orphanage and that it’s definitely more than one ghost.”

“All right,” Sam sighed and turned to Dean. “I saw a library on the way in. Why don’t you stick around here, and I’ll go check it out.”

Dean wanted to object to being left here but decided he’d use Castiel as a human shield and avoid all the craziness.

“Fine,” he growled and tugged Castiel’s arm. “Come on, I wanna grab another gun and some salt before Sam takes Baby.”

Castiel followed him, but Dean could just make out Becky giggling behind him. “Are they, ya know, dating?”

Dean twitched, and his hand went to the gun at his hip. Castiel’s fingers brushed his hand gently away though, and he sighed again forcing himself to relax. 

_ Not in public _ , he reminded himself.  _ Never kill someone in public _ .

**Line Break**

Castiel narrowed his eyes as his breath clouded in front of his face. Most of the people had gone to their rooms to sleep at this point, and he and Dean were patrolling the hallways to try and lure out the ghosts. Sam had said it looked like there were four ghosts in total; one woman and three children. The issue was it would take time to burn all the bodies, as they were buried in separate locations. They couldn’t leave the humans unguarded, and with only one car there was no point in trying to hit both gravesites at once. 

“They’re coming,” Dean muttered, pulling his gun out. Castiel dropped his blade into his hand as well and kept a sharp eye on their surroundings. The first child appeared, and a moment later so did the woman. Castiel frowned and watched as the child quickly fled from the area. 

“Dean, call Sam,” Castiel said, hoping that it wasn’t already too late. He should have realized the pattern sooner. Were his senses dulling so much?

“Why? Is there something-” Dean was cut off by the appearance of all three boys, and Castiel cursed as he pushed Dean behind him.

“Go! The woman was keeping them in check, the other graves should be 2 miles behind this place.”

Dean hesitated as the ghosts began launching things at them, and Castiel turned toward him again. “Go!” The desperation in his shout seemed to get Dean moving, and his friend took off. Castiel turned towards the ghost and narrowed his eyes on them.

Why couldn’t today go smoothly?

**Line Break**

Dean pushed through the woods as fast as he could. He hated leaving Castiel, but he also wasn’t about to say  _ no _ to the angel when he looked like that. There was something about the appearance of ‘Angel of the Lord’ Castiel that always lit a fire under his ass. He just hoped the angel could handle the three ghosts until he reached the grave. He broke through the tree line and slammed right into Sam. They both went down and had guns pulled on each other before they were even on their feet.

“Jesus Christ, Sammy,” Dean exhaled as he climbed to his feet and looked around.

“What the hell are you doing out here, Dean? You’re supposed to be with Cas!” Dean huffed at Sam’s lecturing tone and quickly located the graves they needed. 

“Things went to shit, apparently the ghost chick was keeping the three brats in line. Cas told me to haul ass out here, and that he’d handle them until I burned the bones.”

Sam huffed, but between the two of them, all three graves were dug up with a speed they normally didn’t possess. Dean couldn’t stop thinking about Castiel. He hated having to leave the angel to fend for himself in this case. He wasn’t a people person, and he was extremely underpowered with his connection to the Heavenly Host cut off. The sooner they could get back to him, the better Dean would feel. After this bullshit day, he wanted a drink and a long nap. When the bones were aflame, Dean spun around and began running back toward the convention center. 

“Dean! Wait-” Sam called, but Dean snapped back. “The bones are burning, meet me back there. I’m going to check on Cas.”

His brother didn’t try to argue further, and Dean was grateful because as fit as he was, this was killing his lungs. He managed to get back to the center, and Castiel was already standing outside. He looked a little worse for wear, but as Dean wheezed through his burning lungs he was just glad his friend was in one piece. Castiel frowned and came forward quickly.

“Dean, what happened? Did someone attack you?”

Dean shook his head weakly as he hunched over, breathing deeply and trying to ease his quivering lungs. Damn, was he really that out of shape?

“You,” Dean struggled to breathe, but Castiel put a gentle hand on his back. A moment later, breathing came easier and Dean struggled to a standing position. “Are you okay? You look a bit beat up.”

Dean racked his eyes over Castiel, ignoring the use of his powers for now. He trusted the angel not to overdo it, at least to an extent. Castiel snorted and raised a challenging eyebrow.

“Did you think I, an Angel of the Lord, would be bested by some ghosts?”

Dean struggled with how to respond when he saw the amused glow in Castiel’s eyes. He huffed and threw up his hands with a slight smirk.

“Fine, see if I ever care again,” he snarked and Castiel chuckled softly.

“Come inside, I’m sure you’re exhausted. I want to leave this place as soon as possible.”

Dean sighed, and when he saw Sam approaching at a light jog, he nodded to Castiel. “Yeah, let’s get some shut-eye. I want to hit the road in the morning.” 

**Line Break**

By the time morning came, Sam was more than a little fed up with Chuck and Becky. This whole thing had been a mess from beginning to end, and as they got ready to leave he pulled Chuck aside.

“You said you had a publisher?” Sam asked, keeping his eyes locked on the man.

“Yeah, super interested in keeping the series going,” Chuck said happily though it didn’t quite reach his eyes, and Sam stared the man down.

“You’re going to turn them down,” Sam said flatly, and Chuck’s face fell.

“Why would I do that?”

“Because,” Sam said conversationally, “We have guns, and we  _ will _ find you if another book is published.”

Chuck sighed but threw his hands up in defeat. “Fine; it’s a waste though.”

“I don’t care,” Sam growled softly as Dean and Castiel walked over. “Keep the damn things to yourself.”

“We ready to ship out?” Dean asked, looking between him and Chuck in confusion.

“Yeah, I think we’re good,” said Sam.

“Wait,” Chuck turned toward Castiel and frowned slightly. “I’m sorry. To hear about your sister, I mean.” 

Castiel froze, and for a moment Sam worried the angel may lash out at Chuck for bringing up the archangel. Instead, he looked at Chuck curiously.

“So, she’s actually dead?” 

Chuck seemed to hesitate, and Sam winced. It’s not like they didn’t already know, but knowing and  _ knowing _ were two different things in this case. 

“Yeah,” Chuck whispered. “I wrote about it a few weeks back. I’m sorry.”

Castiel looked away, and Dean placed a hand on his shoulder. Sam shut his eyes and asked a question that had been burning on their minds for a while.

“Do you know what happened? How it happened, I mean.”

Castiel looked back over and shot him a look of appreciation for asking the question. Chuck looked between the three of them for a moment before averting his gaze.

“Yeah,” he choked out and then cleared his throat. “Yes. I know. Apparently, Gabriel and Azrial thought they could talk Michael out of the apocalypse, and thus end everything. They were wrong, and paid the price.” 

“Wait,” Dean exhaled, his eyes wide. “Gabriel is dead too?”

Chuck blinked and then shook his head quickly. “No! I don’t really know where the others are, but everyone except Azrial is fine.” 

Castiel sighed and walked away from them. Dean hesitated, looking between Sam and the angel.

“Go,” Sam said. “He needs you more than I do at the moment. I’ll be right there.”

Dean nodded and took off after Castiel. Sam turned back toward Chuck with a sigh.

“Thanks. Knowing for sure helps, ya know?” 

Chuck nodded, but there seemed to be a weight on his shoulders that wasn’t there before at Sam’s question.

“Yeah, I do.” He paused for a moment and added. “I’ll see you around Sam. Good luck.” 

Sam nodded and took off after his brother. It was time to get back on the road again, and hopefully never run into Becky again.

**Line Break**

Ellen observed the bar with a sharp eye. She was happy with the new place, and word got around quickly enough. They’d only been open since the first of the year, and it was already busy on a nightly basis. The best part was it was closer to Sioux Falls than she had been. A smile tugged her lips at the thought before Jo’s voice had her focusing again. 

“Oh my God,” Her daughter’s strangled voice had Ellen snapping up to look at her, but there didn’t appear to be any danger. “Are you okay? That looks nasty.”

Ellen looked across the bar and eyed up the woman sitting there for a moment. She was a late 20s early 30s woman and her back looked like it had just been bleeding. Beyond that, she didn’t look like anything special so Ellen went back to thinking about the coming weekend. 

“I’m fine,” her soft voice responded, and Ellen hummed, glad nothing was wrong. “It doesn’t even hurt.”

Across the bar, a fight broke out, and Ellen sighed grabbing her shotgun. Some things never changed, but she was almost happy about the chaos. At least it showed the world was still spinning. 

Now, should she have steak for dinner this weekend? She shot off the blank in her shotgun bringing the fight to a halt as she glared at the idiots. Yea, steak sounded great. The two men scrambled away from her as the bar returned to a semi-peaceful state. Even Jo was laughing at something the patron at the bar had said.

Life was good.


	2. Slow Burn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No notes in this chapter. Enjoy!

_ January 28, 2010 _

Rowen moved quickly through the airport. Outwardly, he was smiling politely as he maneuvered the crowds, and most times getting smiles back at the sight of his clerical collar. Inside, he was panicking and worried sick about the implications of being called back to Italy for the first time in seven years. As he reached the gate, he pulled out his phone and sat down near the window away from everyone. A few of his colleagues were there, but otherwise, the terminal around the gate was empty. He dialed Bobby’s number and prayed the man would answer this time. He’d been trying to call the past two days with no luck, and he was starting to become paranoid about the situation.

The phone rang for several moments, and then there was a noticeable click. Rowen sighed in relief at the gruff greeting. “I was just about’ ta call you back-”

“Bobby,” Rowen cut off the hunter, who fell silent at the gravity in his voice. “Remember our joke about my trips to the Vatican?”

There was a pause, and the hunter gave a dry laugh. “You mean about how much money they spend to call you back? That if you’re stuck payin’ your way they just need a warm body?”

“Yeah, that,” Rowen whispered, keeping a sharp eye on his colleagues. They weren’t paying attention, thankfully. There were only four other people getting on here, but he didn’t know them overly well. “Bobby, they charted a private flight. A 777 out of Boston International, and I wasn’t the first pick up.”

The silence dragged on for several seconds, though it felt like an hour with how wound up Rowen was. The first sound to break the silence was Bobby cursing and then something crashing at the other end of the line.

“Bobby?” Rowen carefully asked, and there was a huff.

“Yeah, I’m here. What the  _ hell  _ is happening in Italy? The Vatican hasn’t called you back in years.”

“I don’t think it’s an issue in Italy,” Rowen admitted. “I think it has to do with what happened at the end of December.”

The thought caused a wave of melancholy to wash over him. He thought of the new stained glass piece that hung proudly in his church, behind his pulpit. He’d happily paid out of his own pocket to have it put in on a rush order, and he’d been looking forward to showing it to Azrial. He liked to think she’d be happy to see a likeness of herself next to her brothers. Then Bobby had told him what happened, and he’d almost shattered it in anger and an odd sense of grief. He’d even thrown out the roses and water lily that Azrial had revitalized on Christmas Eve in his anger.

His wife had been hurt by the news as well. Sue had warmed to the archangel quickly after she’d healed Conner’s tumor. It felt unfair for Azrial to be killed, but it seemed she’d died doing what she felt was her duty. He couldn’t fault her for that, even if he wanted to. 

“Rowen?” Bobby’s voice broke him out of his thoughts, and Rowen shook his head.

“Sorry, I think I missed what you said.”

“You think this has to do with the archangels, right?”

“Yeah,” Rowen admitted. “It makes sense. I won’t know until I get there though.”

“Alright, keep me posted.”

“Bobby, be careful,” Rowen pleaded. “I don’t know what’s going on, but to be called back like this? It’s nothing good.”

Bobby sighed, and Rowen could almost picture him giving a reluctant nod. “Course’, I’ll keep an ear to the ground here as well. Have a safe flight, and remember to give that wife of your’s a call before you take off. I’m sure she ain’t thrilled about this either.” 

Rowen winced at that reminder. Sue hadn’t been angry, per se, instead, she’d been worried sick. This wasn’t like a hunt where he could turn someone down, this was the  _ Vatican _ . You didn’t tell them no, even if he really wanted to in this case.

“She’s my next call. I’ll reach out as soon as I can, but they tend to keep us pretty isolated during these meetings.”

“I remember,” Bobby sighed. “I’ll talk to you then.”

The phone call cut off after that, and Rowen leaned against the glass and tried to relax. He didn’t want to sound even the slightest bit anxious when he called Sue, even if his stomach was tight as a knot.

**Line Break**

_ January 29, 2010 _

Ellen frowned as Harley dropped down into her normal seat, and Jo practically ran up to the hunter. Her daughter began shooting off questions about the woman’s last hunt, and Ellen buried the urge to pull Jo away. It wasn’t so much the conversation that bugged her, but the woman. She was too reckless, too uncaring about her own life, and Ellen didn’t want Jo mourning when Harley's recklessness eventually got her killed.

Her cellphone rang, and Ellen gestured to Jo that she was stepping away from the bar. She leveled a warning look at Harley as well and walked into the back as she answered the phone.

“Harvelle speaking.” 

“Hey, Ellen.” The mild warmth in the voice made Ellen smile, and she sat down in her office.

“Bobby, hope you aren’t calling to cancel our plans for next weekend,” she teased, and the man gave a strained chuckle. Ellen sat up a touch straighter at the sound and quickly asked, “What’s going on?”

“You’re too damn perceptive at times, ya know that?” Bobby griped.

“It’s kept me alive all these years,” she countered bluntly.

“Rowen was called back to Italy yesterday. If you plan on sending anyone to his place, make sure they know to speak with Sue.”

Ellen frowned at Bobby’s announcement. That couldn’t be good, no matter how you looked at it. It also explained the worry in Bobby’s tone. She never got the full story there, but she knew the two men had been pretty damn close in the past. It wasn’t any of her business, though it didn’t stop her from wondering at times like these.

“Will do. Haven’t had many who’ve needed him since the new year. Hunts have been slow.”

Silence met her observation, and Bobby sighed. “You’ve noticed as well then?” 

“Yeah, people’ve been talking. The few hunts they go on are either rare monsters or newly turned ones.” Ellen paused and then added as an afterthought. “It’s like the older ones have all gone underground. It’s gettin’ competitive out there.”

“Yet people are still dyin’,'' Bobby muttered. “Can you keep me posted? If anything odd pops up-”

“Bobby,” Ellen cut him off, and then gently continued. “Hun, you don’t have to ask. Anything weird comes up, and I’ll let ya know. Keep those boys safe.”

“Thanks, Ellen,” Bobby said, relief dripping off his voice. 

“Don’t mention it,” Ellen said. “So, we still good for next weekend?”

Bobby chuckled, and Ellen was pleased to hear it wasn’t as strained as before.

“Ya, course’ we are.” 

“Good. I’ll see you then. I have to get back up front for now.”

Bobby hummed. “Sounds good, see you next Friday.”

A soft click signaled that Bobby had hung up, and Ellen felt a small bit of sadness creep into her heart at the abrupt goodbye. She tried not to dwell on it, but part of her couldn’t help but wish for a touch more affection. They’d been doing this, whatever this really was, for almost two years. She sighed and pocketed her cellphone as she stood up. Maybe it would get better now that things were calming down. Ellen did her best to ignore the small voice in the back of her head that disagreed with her as she exited the office.

**Line Break**

_ January 30, 2010 _

Castiel winced as Dean pulled the needle through his skin. He wasn’t used to feeling this much pain. Feeling this...weak.

“You okay, man?” Dean asked tentatively, as he slowly, expertly in a strange way, coaxed his skin back together. 

Castiel stared down as the next stitch pulled through his skin. “I apologize,” he said softly.

Dean blinked up at him in confusion, but quickly went back to tending the deep wound. “What the hell for?”

“I should be able to heal this,” Castiel pointed out, annoyance clinging to his voice. “It’s aggravating.”

Dean hummed as he pulled the needle through once more, fully sealing the wound. He used a knife to cut the thread before grabbing the bottle of whiskey they’d been using as a disinfectant. The hunter grabbed a clean strip of cloth, wetting it with the whiskey, before holding it to the wound and handing him the bottle.

“Bottoms up,” Dean joked, and Castiel took a swig without hesitation. When had he stopped hesitating? 

Castiel sighed and set the bottle down as Dean cleaned his arm. “This was very kind of you.” 

Dean’s face flushed slightly, but he didn’t object to the compliment. Castiel had learned that when Sam was present, Dean tended to be a touch gruffer in response to, what he called, ‘chick flick’ moments. When they were alone, he seemed willing to accept them.

“Well, I think you’re good to go,” Dean said and stood up, tossing the bloodied rag to the floor with the rest of the ruined clothing. Castiel slowly flexed his fingers, pleased that the stitches in his forearm didn’t dislodge.

“You’re quite good at this,” Castiel offered, standing up. He started gathering up the bloodied rags and clothes, shoving them into plastic bags. He’d learned quickly that Sam and Dean never left a trace of their presence if they could help it, and that meant cleaning up things like blood and bodies. 

“Years of practice,” Dean chuckled as he packed away the whiskey and needle. 

Castiel’s eyes drifted to his friend, and he found himself watching Dean’s movements longer than usual. There was an easy grace to him in situations like this. Where it was years of muscle memory and instinct that drove the man. His back lost a touch of the tension it perpetually carried, and the hard lines of his face softened. Even his green eyes seemed to glow a bit brighter.

Castiel shook his head, forcefully pulling his eyes away from Dean. It was getting harder to look away. Between not being able to heal himself as well as normal and his wandering gaze, he was starting to worry he’d somehow fallen in the past month. The only reason he knew that wasn’t the case was the gentle, if weak, thrum of his grace under his skin. 

“Dean?” His question was met by a hum, so he pressed on. “I think my connection to Heaven is weakening.”

Dean stopped what he was doing, and pinned him with a concerned look. “Is that why you couldn’t heal your arm?”

“It’s only speculation,” Castiel cautioned. “But I think with the gates shut, and me here with no connection to a flock, I won’t be able to use my grace to its full extent.”

“Damn, that’s a bit of a letdown,” Dean sighed. Castiel felt his heart sink and wondered if his friend would send him away now.

“I can understand if you wish for me to leave-” He was cut off by Dean turning on him with a sharp glare.

“Shut it, Cas,” Dean warned. “Your power isn’t why I-” Dean froze for a moment, and coughed before continuing. “Your power isn’t why Sammy and I want you around. You could be human, just like us, and we’d still want you with us.”

Castiel couldn’t help smiling at the passionate declaration. It was comforting to know that even if his power dwindled further, Sam and Dean would be there for him.

“Thank you,” Castiel said, and Dean’s face softened slightly.

“Ya, well, you’re family,” Dean said like it explained everything. 

“There’s something else,” Castiel muttered, and sat down.

“What? Can’t be too bad.”

Castiel looked up at Dean. “Jimmy passed on.”

The admission hung heavily between them, and Dean fell onto the bed next to him with a sharp exhale. They sat silently for several long minutes that seemed to stretch into hours. 

“How do you know?” Dean whispered.

“I can’t sense him,” Castiel admitted. “I only noticed recently, and I wasn’t really sure until today.”

“Oh,” Dean paused, sighing and running his hand across his face. “Isn’t that a good thing? I mean...he’d be at peace now.”

“I think it’s a good thing. The path we’re on…” Castiel sighed and looked at Dean, hoping the hunter would understand. He gave a slow nod.

“He saved his kid. That’s all he wanted in the end. Maybe he passed on shortly after and you didn’t notice because of your grace.” 

Castiel mulled it over. It was possible, though rather unlikely. A reaper could have forced Jimmy’s soul to pass on. It wasn’t like the body  _ needed _ a soul after consent was given. Gabriel and Azrial’s bodies had been created for them, basically soulless golems that could handle their grace, after all. Though, to his knowledge, he hadn’t been in contact with a reaper recently.

“Damnit,” Castiel hissed softly at the realization. “He was reaped, and I didn’t even notice.”

“What?” Dean’s disbelief was clear. “But we haven’t seen a reaper since the seals were broken.”

“We have,” Castiel growled, more annoyed at himself than anything. “We were around Azrial for several  _ days _ .”

Dean’s mouth opened slightly, and then clicked shut as the realization hit him. “Are you shitting me? She just,” he gestured wildly. “Yanked his soul from you?”

“It would seem so,” Castiel huffed. “Typical of an archangel, honestly. Doing as they please without explaining themselves.” 

Dean shot Castiel a look. “So, it’s only you in there now?”

Castiel tried to decipher the tone, but couldn’t place it. “Yes, it seems to only be me now.”

A strange look passed over Dean’s face, but before anything else could be said the room door was opening. Dean was on his feet, moving back to repack the medical kit as Sam stepped into the room.

“I’ve got lunch. How’s your arm doing Cas?”

Castiel shook his head and turned to answer Sam. There would be time to ponder Dean’s odd behavior later. Right now he wanted that cheeseburger, and to update Sam on the conclusions he’d reached.

**Line Break**

_ January 31, 2010 _

Bobby was reading through the Gospel of Eve, making notes in his journal as he went. It was a slow Sunday, and as the day had dragged on, he’d decided to finally look at the book he’d been bribed with. It was interesting, no doubt about it, but so far there wasn’t anything earth shattering in it. His personal phone ringing broke him from his thoughts, and he picked it up without pause.

“Hello?”

“Bobby,” Rowen’s exhausted voice came down the line. “Sorry it took so long to call.”

Bobby leaned back in his desk chair, the tome in front of him forgotten. He’d been waiting for this call, dreading it, for the past four days.

“So, is the world still ending?” Bobby prompted, but Rowen didn’t laugh. There was a heavy sigh, and he could hear the man drumming his fingers against something.

“We don’t know. There are things going on that don’t make any damn sense.” 

“We?” Bobby asked, his brows knitted together. “Wait, are you telling me the freakin’  _ Vatican _ doesn’t know?”

“Yeah,” Rowen exhaled. “That’s why they called us back. No one else had shit to say, and I ended up in a lovely conversation turned interrogation with my superiors once they realized I’d met two archangels.”

Bobby stiffened, and growled softly. “They didn’t do anything to you, did they?”

“No, they wouldn’t dare. I told them a watered down version of what happened. They already knew about Sam and Dean though.”

Bobby rubbed his temples, feeling a migraine coming on. “They ain’t gonna bug them, right?”

“No,” Rowen bluntly replied. “As far as the Vatican is concerned, those boys have immunity. There are some very old rules about not messing with those who are ordained with a purpose by God.”

“Small miracles,” Bobby grumbled.

“They are still interested in you,” Rowen gently added, and Bobby scoffed. This conversation had been done to death, and he knew Rowen was only mentioning it out of obligation.

“And I still ain’t interested, Rowen. Tell those bastards I ain’t anyone’s dog. You’d think not being religious would be enough to get them to leave me the hell alone.”

Rowen sighed, and Bobby could picture the wary look on the man’s face. 

“Bobby, they will eventually stop asking through me. Can’t you give me something else to tell them, especially right now?”

The plea made Bobby sigh, and he mulled over a response. An idea hit him, and he smirked. It may be a tad back handed, but he was sick of this conversation coming up every year or so.

“Alright, tell those bastards this,” Bobby snarked. “If they’re so desperate for my research skills, they can contract me. I ain’t going to Italy unless I feel the need, I want full access to their archives, full independence in my free time, and a six figure salary to boot.”

Rowen was silent for several moments, and then he chuckled softly. The chuckle quickly turned into full blown laughter, and it took almost two minutes for the man to calm down enough to respond. 

“That’s brilliant,” Rowen gasped through the last of his laughter. “They don’t normally hire contractors. The old biddies like to keep things in house, so to speak.” 

“Which should finally shut them up,” Bobby griped. “And it only took 28 years.”

“I’ll let them know,” Rowen chuckled, but then turned serious once more. “There is one thing I needed to tell you.”

“What’s that?”

“I can’t confirm this, but based on the Vatican’s contacts there haven’t been  _ any  _ demon deals made since January 1.”

“What?” Bobby hissed. “That’s impossible. Even when the gates of Hell were shut, deals happened regularly.”

“That’s the concern,” Rowen admitted. “There is no way to know for sure though.”

Bobby’s eyes fell to his desk drawer, and a stone fell into his stomach. There  _ was _ a way, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to open that can of worms.

“If there really haven’t been any deals, what could that mean?” 

“Worst case scenario?” Rowen hesitantly asked.

“Yeah, worst case.”

“Lucifer survived and is rallying the demons. Whether for an army or something else.”

Bobby’s heart sank, and he was already opening the drawer and pulling out the business card.

“I’ll see what I can find out,” Bobby muttered.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Rowen warned, a hard edge to his voice. “I swear, I’ll fly out there and wring your neck.”

“What are you, my wife?” Bobby snarked, and Rowen huffed.

“The next words out of your mouth better be ‘yes dear’ if that’s the case.”

Bobby only hesitated for a second. “Yes dear, I won’t get myself killed.”

Rowen gave a long suffering sigh, and Bobby knew the man was rolling his eyes. “God have mercy,” Rowen muttered. “I have to go, I’m flying home in two days and there are still some things I need to handle here.”

“Sounds good. Let me know when you’re state side again.”

“I will. Be safe out there, Bobby. I’ll let my superious know your answer.” 

The call ended, and Bobby set his phone down and picked up the business card. He ran a thumb over it, considering his next move. The bastard had to know  _ something _ , the Crossroads were his domain after all. The question was if he should call him, or summon him. He did a mental inventory of ingredients, and put the card back in his drawer. At least if he summoned Crowley, the bastard was guaranteed to show up. The demon may choose to ignore his calls. 

For now, he’d get the ingredients together and gather some more information. After that, he’d summon Crowley and see if they could put their information together into some semblance of sense.


	3. Epiphany

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No CW/TW in this chapter. Enjoy, and I'll see you all next week!

_ February 11, 2010 _

Crowley raised an eyebrow as he appeared in the familiar living room and moved his sharp gaze to the man leaning against the desk. Bobby’s foot was tapping against the ground, his body tense as their eyes locked.

“You could have just called,” Crowley said, looking down. He was surprised to see there wasn’t a Devil’s Trap and looked up curiously to find the ceiling blank as well. “No trap? Is this, dare I say it, trust?”

“Don’t push it,” Bobby growled. “I need you.”

“Bobby, darling, you only had to-”

“Not like that, you bastard!” Bobby snapped, rubbing his temples. “I have some reports that I want to get a second opinion on, and you’re the best person for the job.”

Crowley frowned slightly, eyeing the worn-out man. Whatever was going on had the seasoned hunter worried and that didn’t bode well for anyone. He dropped the teasing tone and cautiously moved forward to the chair in front of the desk. When he didn’t get stuck or run into a trap, he sat down looking up at Bobby.

“Well, let’s conspire then.”

Bobby sighed, walked to the other side of his desk, and sat down. He poured two glasses of what smelled like cheap whiskey and shoved a one over to Crowley. Surprised as he was at the somewhat cordial welcome, Crowley remained silent as he sipped the whiskey before setting it down.

“You look like the world is ending again,” Crowley said. Bobby’s face fell, and a small ball of fear tangled in Crowley’s stomach. No, it couldn’t be. That would mean Lucifer and Michael had survived. That was a pill he wasn’t ready to swallow. It would mean Azrial had died for nothing. Despite the strange things he’d seen over the past two months he wasn’t ready to admit that was a possibility. He gripped the archangel blade that was strapped to his arm, trying to ground himself to the present.

“Are you still in charge of the Crossroads?”

The question took Crowley by surprise, and he stared at Bobby for several seconds before he huffed.

“Of course I am. Not like anyone would step in and take that poisoned chalice,” he snarked. 

“So, you’re aware there haven’t been any demon deals since the New Year?”

Crowley sat up straighter at the prodding question and leveled a piercing gaze on Bobby. 

“How did you find that out?”

“A little dove told me,” Bobby threw out casually. Crowley narrowed his eyes, and then the double meaning hit him.

“Those meddlesome Catholic dogs,” Crowley snarled softly. “That bastard Anderson told you, didn’t he? The Papacy must be running in circles.” 

“So it’s true?” Bobby exhaled, surprise dripping from his voice. Crowley scoffed and took a swig of the whiskey despite its horrid taste.

“It’s partially true,” he corrected. “People are summoning and no one is showing up. Well,” he smiled ruefully at Bobby. “No one but me, that is.”

Bobby’s brows came together as he leveled him with a searching look. “So you’re still making deals?”

“When I feel it’s safe. Souls are power, after all. I’m not about to roll over and die,” he huffed.

“Damnit. Paired with the other issue-” Bobby was cut off by his phone ringing. He looked down at the caller ID and cursed softly. “Please don’t be an emergency.”

Crowley watched as he flipped open the phone putting it to his ear. “What’s wrong, Ellen?”

There was a pause, and Bobby’s jaw tightened slightly. “I’m not implying there has to be something  _ wrong _ for you to call. I’m just,” he darted a glance toward him, and Crowley raised an eyebrow. “I’m busy.”

There were several seconds of silence before Bobby sighed. “Is someone going to die?” Another pause and Crowley sipped the whiskey out of habit. He gagged slightly, not able to handle any more of the swill. “Is someone in trouble?” Another pause, and then Bobby let out an aggravated huff. “Then I can’t help right now, Ellen. If the person isn’t gonna kill someone or die in the next twenty-four hours, I have bigger fish to fry.”

Crowley could make out a raised voice from the other side of the phone, and he watched as the sympathy bled from Bobby’s face completely. He seemed at least tolerant of the intrusion up to this point but now was consumed by aggravation.

“That’s not what I said, damnit.” Another beat. “Ellen, you’re overstepping. My life doesn’t revolve around you.”

Crowley choked on his spit and gave Bobby an incredulous look. “Are you absolutely  _ insane _ , mate? You  _ never _ say that to a woman, even if it is true!” 

Bobby turned his furious gaze on him and snarled low in his throat. “I’m not the one who told the damn archangel who saved my life to get lost while she was half dead!”

Crowley felt his face fall before he could stop the reaction. Bobby’s fury seemed to dissipate as their eyes locked, but Crowley looked away just as he heard a female voice scream down the phone. “You’re spending time with CROWLEY?”

Bobby turned from him and quickly tried to cut over the furious woman. “I’m getting  _ information _ . You know, doing my  _ job _ .”

The woman’s voice cracked through the phone again as Bobby pulled it away from his ear. “Well, I hope you enjoy his damn dick because you ain’t gettin’ near me anytime soon!”

A sharp beep signaled the end of the call, and Bobby threw the phone down. He took a deep swig of the whiskey, shutting his eyes as he exhaled. Crowley wouldn’t meet his gaze again as he spoke.

“If that’s all you needed to know, I think I’ll head out.”

Bobby looked up, and their eyes met again. The hunter looked torn but sighed, a sad look passing over his face. “I’m sorry. Ya didn’t deserve that. Had anyone said that shit to me while I was grieving, I’d have shot them.”

Crowley didn’t bother to correct the hunter’s assumption that he was mourning, too shocked by the apology. Several seconds of silence dragged on between them, and Crowley coughed, not at all comfortable. He didn’t like unknown situations, and suddenly he was knee-deep in one. 

“You got anything else to drink, this shite tastes like swill.”

Bobby chuckled drily and pulled a bottle from his desk drawer with a rueful smile. “For special occasions. Mostly funerals these days…” The hunter sighed, his eyes darting toward the bookshelf for a moment. Crowley followed his gaze and noticed a familiar leather-bound book. He swallowed trying to ignore the well of grief that pooled in his chest. Bobby sighed and added softly, “There is more to talk about. I just need a few minutes. Don’t drink the whole damn bottle on your own, or you’re buying me a new one.”

With that warning, the hunter stood up and walked out of the room. Crowley tore his eyes from the shelf and poured himself a glass. The scotch was of decent quality, and he halted his initial desire to down a glass with reckless abandon. Now wasn’t the time or place. As much as Bobby needed a moment, it seemed he did as well. He ran a hand over the sleeve that hid Azrial’s archangel blade from view and shut his eyes with a sigh as he focused on the remnants of grace still clinging to it.

**Line Break**

Jo looked up as Harley slid into her normal seat, and slid the woman a Guinness without prompting. The dark-haired woman gave a small smile as she raised the glass in thanks before taking a sip. 

“How was your hunt?” Jo asked, happy to have a break from the quiet afternoon. “You were going after a vamp nest, weren’t you?”

“Nest is a strong word,” Harley said. “Turned out to be one freshly turned vamp that was half insane. The nest itself was abandoned at least a week ago.”

“That’s strange,” Jo muttered. “You’re not the only one to bring that up though. There’s been issues with vamps and weres lately.” 

Their conversation was cut off by Ellen’s voice raising from across the room. Jo shot her mother a worried look. She wasn’t blind to Harley curiously looking over as well.

“Who pissed her off? I haven’t been in long enough to cause that much damage.”

Jo snorted at the hunter’s off-handed comment. “I think she’s talking to,” Jo paused, realizing Harley likely wouldn’t know Bobby. “She’s talking to her boyfriend.”

“That sounded more like a question,” Harley teased. “But I do-”

“My life doesn’t revolve around you?” Ellen snarled loudly, effectively cutting off Harley. There were several seconds of silence before she yelled again. “You’re spending time with CROWLEY?”

Jo winced and tuned out the rest of the argument. Harley looked strangely interested but turned away from Ellen as well. 

“Well, I think they may be breaking up,” the hunter said, half-amused. “That was a rather stupid thing to say.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Jo sighed, as her mother stormed out of the bar looking murderous. “Do you know where you’re heading next?”

“There’s a Djinn up in Vermont that I want to take down,” Harley said, finishing off her beer. “Ever hunted a Djinn?”

“Tch. You know I rarely get out,” Jo huffed. “I’ve researched Djinn though. You sure you’ll be okay on your own?”

Harley shrugged, her eyes sparkling. “Would you like to go? I’d be happy to let you tag along.”

Jo blinked, surprised at the offer. She was about to readily agree when her mother walked back in and snarled.

“She won’t be going anywhere with you, Harley. Don’t ask again if you like having a place to drink.”

Harley met Ellen’s furious gaze and shrugged. She clearly wasn’t bothered by the misplaced anger, and Jo was grateful for that. 

“Whatever ya say, Harvelle. No need to take your break-up out on me.”

Jo watched her mother’s brow twitch and jaw clench. She shoved another beer over to Harley and quickly cut off her mother’s impending tirade.

“So, any news from the boys?” Jo asked in a chipper voice.

**Line Break**

Bobby walked back into his living room and raised an eyebrow when he saw Crowley looking around his bookshelves. He stood by the door, taking a brief moment to observe the demon. It was clear he was grieving, the way he seemed to deflate after being snapped at earlier proved it. A mourning demon, it was still a strange concept to grasp after hunting the bastards all these years. Then again, even after the boys first talked about Crowley he’d know the demon was different. Craftier, smarter, and much more aware of the inherent give and take that had an invisible hold over the world. Bobby wondered how much of that could be chalked up to hanging around Azrial, the right hand of Death, and how much of it was just Crowley. 

“Is it true you don’t screw over people with your deals?” Bobby asked. He remembered the boys saying something about that, and he was curious if it was actually true.

Crowley snorted and turned from the books. “Why screw someone over when you’ll be getting their soul in ten years? That’s just bad for business.”

Bobby’s brows creased as he considered that. “You’re sayin’ you think people would stop dealin’ if enough got screwed over?”

“I don’t think,” Crowley said bluntly, retaking his seat. “I know. Better than most, some might argue.”

Bobby hummed, knowing that there was more to the demon’s strange honor code than met the eye. He wasn’t fool enough to think Crowley would ever share that information with him though. He was about to sit back down and begin explaining what he knew about the monsters when there was a knock on the door.

“Expecting someone?” Crowley asked, suspicion dripping off his voice.

“No,” Bobby responded. He grabbed his knife as he walked toward the door, and looked outside. “The hell is there a lawyer here for?”

Crowley perked up slightly, curiosity overtaking his paranoia. Bobby cracked the door slightly and growled.

“I think you’re lost, boy.” The young, well-dressed, man smirked slightly in response.

“I don’t think I am, Mr. Singer. The Vatican rarely sends me to the wrong place.” 

Bobby cursed and opened the door fully to glare at the man. The lawyer seemed unfazed, and his silvery grey eyes sparkled with amusement.

“I thought I finally drove those bastards off. Wasn’t that the point of asking for somethin’ they wouldn’t be willin’ to give?”

“That’s just it, Mr. Singer. They’re willing to give you what you asked. I’m here to negotiate a contract for you, and have been told not to come back empty-handed.” 

“You tried to get  _ rid _ of the Vatican?” Came Crowley’s amused question. Bobby groaned, and the lawyer chuckled.

“Is this a bad time?” The man genuinely asked. “I can come back later.”

Bobby sighed and waved the man in, absentmindedly handing him a shot glass of holy water. “No, let’s just get this shit over with. It’s going to be a resounding ‘no’, just so you’re aware.”

The lawyer took the shot without care and followed him into the study. Bobby gestured to an empty chair, not willing to make Crowley move purely because the lawyer had shown up. He was about to ask the man’s name when Crowley looked over in amusement.

“Valerius, what does the Vatican want so badly they sent  _ you _ here?”

The lawyer chuckled and offered his hand to Bobby. He frowned and took the hand hesitantly unsure how to react to the demon and lawyer knowing each other.

“Orion Valerius, feel free to simply call me Valerius if you prefer. As Crowley hinted, I tend to be the Vatican’s last-ditch effort.”

Bobby watched the man warily as he sat down in the free armchair. “Why’s that? And why the hell do the two of you know each other?”

Crowley chuckled but clearly wasn’t inclined to answer. Valerius shrugged, and his lips curled into a knowing smile.

“Well, some stereotypes are true,” the man offered. Bobby didn’t break his piercing stare, and Valerius laughed. “Truthfully, I like to learn from the best. No one, and I mean  _ no one _ , knows contract law like Crowley does.” 

“So, you sold your soul for a business lesson?” Bobby asked, disbelief dripping off his voice.

Valerius looked surprised and Crowley snorted softly.

“What? No!” Valerius snapped. He looked rather offended at the insinuation. “I bribed the bastard with wine from my family vineyard.”

“And what wonderful wine it was,” Crowley said wistfully. “Does your sister need anything, by chance?”

“Even if she did, she wouldn’t ask you.” Valerius huffed, his silvery eyes moving back to Bobby. “Regardless, these are for you.”

He slid an envelope across to the hunter and sat back in the chair with an easygoing smile. Bobby opened the file and pulled out a weighty contract. He opened to the first page where the Vatican’s offer was outlined and choked on his spit.

“They are actually willin’ to  _ pay _ that?” 

Crowley snagged the packet from him, and Bobby was too shocked to object. The demon’s eyebrows raised as he looked over the offer, though he began to page through the rest of the contract as he spoke.

“You asked them for $250,000 a year?” Crowley asked, clearly amused.

“I just told them six figures!” Bobby snapped. “That, and I wanted my independence. I’m not about to be running back and forth at their beck and call. I’m not a damn dog.”

“Here I thought you couldn’t get any more attractive,” Crowley mused. “This contract is unacceptable if you asked for your independence though.”

Valerius smiled and tilted his head in agreement. “This day just got so much more interesting. Will you be representing his interests, Crowley?”

“What? No-” Bobby was cut off by Crowley’s vicious smile. “Oh, most certainly. Anything to piss off the Vatican.”

Bobby watched as the conversation rushed away from him before he could get control of it. Crowley had pulled a red pen out of God knows where, and for the first time since Azrial’s death, looked truly pleased with himself. Bobby swallowed his objections at that realization. After what he said earlier, if something this simple would put the demon in a good mood, he’d let him have it. Hopefully, he’d be more willing to talk about the other issues they were having after this bullshit was handled.

**Line Break**

Bobby stared down at the finalized contract in shock. The final numbers and agreed upon terms seemed to mock him with the absurdity of it all. Crowley looked over at him with a Cheshire grin, clearly pleased with his work. Bobby didn’t blame him, he was damn impressed himself.

“Well,” Valerius began, finishing off his glass of scotch. “Once you sign it, I can get out of your hair.”

Bobby shook his head and looked over at Crowley. The demon seemed to understand his silent question and nodded.

“It’s some of my best work, pet. If you don’t sign this, I wouldn’t sign anything at all.”

Bobby sent the demon a mild glare at the nickname but sighed as he stared down at the offer again.

“And I’ll get that today?”

“250,000 will be in the account today. The rest should be there by the end of the month. Then you’ll get paid yearly,” Valerius informed calmly. 

“Damnit,” Bobby whispered. “And there are no loopholes?” 

“If there are any, they are certainly in your favor,” Crowley smirked. Valerius chuckled, clearly not bothered about being outdone by the crafty demon. 

“I’ve avoided this for more than two decades,” Bobby muttered. 

“Did you really have a reason to join up before this?” Crowley asked, sipping his scotch. “The world’s still ending, pet, and now you have some sorely needed backing. Even if I hate those pompous pricks, they pack a punch when they want to.”

Bobby sighed and put out his hand. “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

To his surprise, Crowley handed him the red pen he’d been using with another one of his damn knowing smiles. It felt heavier than a normal pen, but he put it down to what it was made out of. The thing looked to be gold plated, which truly summed up Crowley’s style in his opinion. He only hesitated a moment before signing the paperwork. Crowley looked over his shoulder and laughed a bit.

“Somehow I expected your cursive to be sloppy. Instead, it’s practically flawless.”

“Shadup,” Bobby muttered, handing the pen back and pushing the paperwork over to Valerius. “Is that it?”

“It is,” the lawyer nodded. He slid a small envelope over as he stood up. “Your bank card and details. It’s been an absolute pleasure, Mr. Singer. Crowley, come by and maybe I’ll give you a bottle of wine.”

The man pulled his jacket back on with a smirk and saw himself out with the paperwork in hand. Bobby cracked the envelope and pulled out several IDs and a bank card with a sigh.

“Not happy, pet?” 

“Knock that off,” Bobby huffed. “And no. I thought I’d put an end to this. Instead, apparently, my life was worth half a million a year.”

“I think it’s worth more,” Crowley said casually. “But I also think you got everything you wanted out of it. Those nightmares you call children should have an easier time of it now.”

Bobby was about to snap back when he realized what Crowley had said. His children. The demon had called Sam and Dean his kids as if there was never any question to it. That’s why he’d done this. Not the money, but the benefit it provided to his family. It made him no different than Rowen in that respect.

“You said there was something else going on,” Crowley prompted. “I don’t know how much longer I can be out of my safe house. We should finish this up.

Bobby shook his head and turned to face Crowley who was still sitting next to him.

“There has been a lack of monsters recently. I’ve never seen such a lull in hunting before.”

Crowley hummed, a thoughtful look passing over his face. “Which types?”

“Vamps, Djinn, Weres, and Shifters mostly. Though I think Skinwalkers have been in short supply as well.”

Crowley stared hard at him for several seconds and stood up. The demon began pacing as he softly responded.

“All those nasties have something in common, pet.”

“And what the hell is that, your highness?” Bobby snarked. Crowley stopped at the sarcastic nickname, but he looked more amused than annoyed. Bobby rolled his eyes but decided he wasn’t going to drop it if Crowley kept calling him ‘pet’ like he was a stray hellhound.

“They all have Alphas.”

Bobby stared at Crowley, not really sure what to stay to that blunt statement. He understood what it implied, but didn’t like where this was going. 

“They have  _ what now _ ?”

“Alphas,” Crowley repeated as he began pacing again. “As in big daddy monsters who spawned the rest of the species.”

“Okay, I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“You wouldn’t unless you were looking for it,” Crowley admitted. “They don’t normally involve themselves in the day to day activity of their kiddies.”

“So why mention it?” Bobby countered, not following the demon’s train of thought.

“Because, if all these little nasties have gone off the grid there has to be a reason for it.” Crowley snapped. “Alphas can easily order the entire species underground, and they’d have to obey or risk death. Especially if it’s for the protection of the species.”

“But why the hell would...?” Bobby trailed off as a morbid thought came to mind. The lack of demons. The lack of monsters. The realization that more than just  _ humans _ were hiding out.

“Lucifer would know about the Alphas, wouldn’t he?” Bobby quietly asked. Crowley’s face was pinched with fury, but his eyes seemed heavy. As if he’d come to some life-altering conclusion at the same time Bobby had.

“Yes. They’ve been around almost as long as angels,” Crowley admitted. 

“An army. He’s building an army.” Bobby whispered, the realization hanging over the room like a poised guillotine. Crowley looked over at him, and with a rueful smile that didn’t match the grief shining in his dark eyes.

“Yes, and our General is dead.”

“Balls,” Bobby exhaled. Suddenly the Vatican was the least of his worries.


	4. Harleys and Heartache

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all and happy Saturday!
> 
> CW/TW for this chapter: In the second section there is an ATTEMPTED rape/sexual assault. Please, PLEASE, read with caution. You can skip to the second "Line Break" if you are uncomfortable. What happened will not be more than mentioned afterward.

_ February 19, 2010 _

Claire was happy. That really should have been her first clue something was wrong.

“Claire, it’s time for dinner!” 

Her father’s voice washed over her like a warm blanket, and she raced down the steps to join her parents. She entered the dining room and came to a stop, staring around the dark and silent kitchen. 

“Mom? Dad?” She called out, slowly entering the kitchen. “Where are you?”

She took another tentative step. As soon as her bare foot touched the tile, the floor collapsed under her. She was falling, she wasn’t sure where, and all she could do was scream as the air ripped from her lungs.

“Hey, kid, wake up!”

Claire didn’t know where the voice was coming from. The whole world was crumbling around her, and her heart was pounding in her chest. She shut her eyes, trying to block out the panic that was creeping up on her.

“Kid, you have to wake up!”

The voice was more insistent this time, and Claire tried to respond but failed. There was a sharp sting on her cheek, and Claire’s eyes snapped open. The darkness faded away, and there was a trickle of warm sunlight against her face. She blinked several times to adjust to the difference in light and looked up into concerned blue eyes.

“D-dad?” she stuttered. 

“Sorry kid, but I’m not your dad.” 

Claire shook her head, realizing how foolish her question was. The voice was distinctly female, after all. The eye color had just reminded her of her father, though now that she focused it was slightly different. The mysterious woman’s eyes were a darker shade than her father’s. 

“Where am I?” she asked, looking around the area skittishly. The woman stood and offered her a hand up. Claire noticed the woman’s hand was bloody and hesitated to take it.

“I won’t hurt you, kid.” The woman said, her voice gentle, despite her rather gruff appearance. “You were being held captive by a Djinn. It’s a miracle you’re still alive.” 

Claire paled, shakily took the hand, and stood up. She looked around and noticed there were several dead bodies still bound to posts and pillars around the warehouse. A few feet away was the body of a man she somewhat recognized. His head was caved in and a gentle hand tugged her chin away from the body. 

“Hey now, don’t worry about that bastard,” she softly reprimanded. “What’s your name?”

“Claire,” she said after a moment. “My name is Claire Novak.”

The woman’s brows came together in thought, and she tilted her head.

“Well, Claire, let’s get you outta here.”

The woman gently tugged her hand toward the exit, and Claire didn’t resist. She couldn’t help but glance back at the bodies with a sinking feeling though. How close had she been to dying herself? She swallowed back the bile that crawled into her throat, and slowly blinked as the sun lit up the area as they stepped outside. 

“So,” the woman began, her eyes looking over the area. “How’d you end up here?”

“I was looking for my mom,” Claire said, the reality of what would have happened without this rescue slowly sinking in.

“Did the Djinn get her too?”

Claire thought back to the bodies she’d seen and slowly shook her head. Her mother, for better or worse, hadn’t been among them. 

“Alright, look, we need to get you to the authorities.”

Claire stared at the woman in shock and quickly tried to shoot down the idea.

“No! You can’t do that. They’ll end up sending me to an orphanage or something!”

“An orphanage would be  _ safe _ ,” the woman snapped. “You almost died, kid.”

Claire didn’t have the chance to argue as the woman pushed a cell phone and a wad of cash into her hands.

“Hide the money, and don’t let the cops take it from you. Walk around a half-mile from here, and call 911. They’ll help you.”

The woman turned to leave, and Claire watched her go in shock. She’d just gotten on a rather nice looking bike when her brain kick-started again.

“What’s your name?” Claire yelled as the bike revved to life.

“They call me Harley,” the woman said. “Stay safe kid, and do the right thing.”

Claire watched as Harley pulled on her helmet, and she took off out of the parking lot, the small trailer attached to the bike making a soft clunk as she went. She stared down at the phone and money before looking around the area. She could see a truck stop in the distance and decided to stick with her original plan. She had some money now. Hopefully, it would get her to the next place her mother had been spotted.

**Line Break**

Claire was jolted awake as the van came to a stop. The guy, Andrew, had been nice enough to give her a ride to Albany for $75, about a third of the money Harley had handed off to her. Her mother’s next letter had come from Saratoga, so hopefully, there would be a trail to follow when she got to New York. 

“Are we stopping for the night?” Claire tentatively asked. 

She looked outside and could see they’d pulled onto the side of a disused road. She was about to ask another question when Andrew roughly grabbed her wrist.

“What are you doing?” She yelped, struggling to get her wrist free. His grip tightened and she froze at the cold look he directed at her.

“Did you really think that little bit you paid was enough to get you to Albany?” 

She knew it was a rhetorical question, but the terror pumping through her blood had her snapping back.

“You said it was enough! If it wasn’t why did you-”

A harsh slap to the face cut her off, and Claire whimpered in pain. She wanted her mom. Why did this have to happen to her? To her family?

“You’re going to be quiet, understand? If you piss me off-”

His threat was cut short by Claire’s door snapping open and gentle hands yanking her free of the man’s grip. She practically fell out of the van, and she caught Andrew’s furious look as he lost his grip on her wrist.

“Who the hell are you?” He shouted as Claire found herself gently pushed behind someone.

“I’m about to be your worst fucking nightmare,” a familiar voice snarled. 

“Harley?” Claire whispered. Sharp blue eyes moved toward her with a mix of fury and concern that had Claire swallowing any other questions.

“Go to my bike, and don’t come back over here. You understand me?”

The hard edge to the woman’s voice had Claire frantically nodding as she raced off down the road to where she saw Harley’s bike. Her heart was beating a mile a minute, and as soon as she reached the bike she threw up. A pained scream filled the night air, and Claire knew by the pitch it was Andrew’s. She couldn’t help but feel a sick sense of pleasure as his cries filled the otherwise silent night air. His pained cries had quickly turned to begging. He was screaming for Harley to stop and Claire prayed to God the woman wouldn’t. She wanted the bastard to suffer for what he’d been about to do. Claire fell to her knees, leaning against the bike and trembling in the cool evening air. The engine was still giving off waves of heat, and Claire drew comfort from the warmth. It grounded her to reality even as the cries reached an almost fevered pitch. She’d almost been raped. That bastard almost raped her, and Claire felt her heart sink. All she wanted was her family back. Why was God punishing her for that?

Claire’s head snapped up as a loud bang brought the begging to an abrupt end. Several moments passed before Harley approached her. Claire noted Harley’s knuckles were caked with blood, and the woman still looked furious. Her cold blue eyes softened as she reached her, though. Harley knelt down and looked her in the eye, and Claire’s lips trembled.

“Are you okay? He didn’t get the chance to do anything, right?” Claire nodded slowly, and Harley gave a relieved sigh. “Good, I’m glad. He won’t be able to hurt you again.”

Claire blinked back tears and did the only thing that felt natural at the moment. She threw herself into Harley’s arms and cried. She felt the woman’s arms snake around her as she fell back, and the biker just held her as Claire sobbed. 

“Let it out, kid. You’re safe now.” The gentle whisper washed over her, and Claire cried louder. She dug her fingers into Harley’s leather jacket and felt the woman run soothing circles against her back. Claire wasn’t sure how long she sat there, long enough that she noticed that Harley seemed to favor a sweet perfume with hints of rain, but soon she was hiccuping the last of her tears.

“Claire, we have to get out of here. Are you okay to ride?”

Claire lifted her head and gave Harley a slow nod. “I think so. Will we stop for the night? I’m really cold.”

Harley helped her up pulled her jacket off, wrapping it around Claire’s smaller form. The heavy leather felt warm and the sweet perfume wrapped around her. The smell was strangely comforting after everything that had happened.

“Of course. The first safe place I see, we’ll stop.”

Harley guided her to sit on the bike, and Claire tried to zip the jacket up with trembling fingers. Harley ended up doing it, and Clarie was grateful for how patient the woman was being. The biker handed Claire a helmet and she pulled it on. It was a little big, but the full face of it kept the cool air off her face. 

“Alright, you ready to go?” Harley asked. Claire nodded, and the woman got on the bike and revved the engine to life. “Hold on to me, and lean when I do. I’ll try and find a place to stay as soon as possible.” 

Claire nodded, not fully registering the words as Harley pulled a u-turn so they were facing away from the van. They took off down the road, and Claire clung to the woman. She took comfort in the sweet perfume and tried her best to leave the horrible experience she just had behind her with the van they were speeding away from.

**Line Break**

_ March 1, 2010 _

Bobby was rudely woken by his ringtone screeching inches from his ear. What was the point of buying a new bed if you couldn’t get more than three hours of sleep? He groped for his phone and flipped it open.

“What?” He snapped, not really caring who was on the other end of the line.

“Woke up on the wrong side of the bed, Singer?”

The terse response woke him up fully. He sat up and leaned against the headboard as he ran a hand over his face.

“So, you’re finally talkin’ to me again?” 

Bobby’s voice was a touch gruffer than he intended due to just waking up, but he also couldn’t be bothered. Ellen had been ghosting him for two weeks after that disaster of a phone call. He hadn’t been able to tell her about the Vatican contract because she wouldn’t answer his calls, and he wasn’t about to give her that news over a damn text. 

“Look, this is a business call,” she said tersely. “Do you know if Rowen is taking any other kids in?”

Bobby bit back a snarky comment and focused on what Ellen had asked. “ I think he is. Why? Did a kid show up there?”

“Sort of,” Ellen sighed. “A hunter, the one I wanted you to look into, named Harley found the kid on a Djinn hunt. She tried to get her to the cops, but apparently, the kid has no family left. Her mother and father were involved in something supernatural, and she ran from the authorities.”

“Damn,” Bobby whispered. “I can definitely call and find out. How old are they?”

“Her name is Claire, and she just turned 14. Look, I don’t like Harley but she’s doing her damn best to help the girl. She’s searching non-stop for leads on the girl’s mother, but nothing is coming up.”

“Alright. Send me the relevant information and I’ll forward it to Rowen. Anything else I should know?”

“Yeah, she isn’t likely to leave Harley’s side without a fight. Something happened, and Harley saved her life. I tried asking, but Claire shut down and Harley almost bit my damn head off.”

Bobby snorted, and couldn’t help but picture two mother bears fighting at Ellen’s annoying admission. 

“Will Harley agree to let Rowen take the kid?” 

Bobby didn’t want a fight on two fronts, and as much as he hated to admit it, 14 was getting up there for a hunter’s kid. They could be left safely warded in a hotel while a parent hunted, and had a decent amount of survival skills. He hated to remember what Sam and Dean were doing at 14, but he knew John wasn’t the only one who’d pulled that crap.

“Harley was the one who asked,” Ellen admitted. “She, well, she admitted she ain’t much of a parent. Her only stipulation is that Clarie be trained because she doesn’t think the girl will stop hunting.” 

“That’s reasonable,” Bobby admitted. “We don’t know what got her parents, and some monsters like to wipe out whole families. She have a last name?” 

“Wouldn’t tell me, and I’m not sure if Harley knows either. Harley said she wouldn’t send the girl to Rowen until they had an idea of what happened to her mother. I don’t agree with that, but…”

“But at this point, it ain’t your choice,” Bobby finished. Ellen hummed in agreement and Bobby mulled over the information. “Alright, I’ll call Rowen at a more reasonable hour and fill him in.”

“Thank you,” Ellen said. There were several seconds of silence before the woman sighed. “I’m sorry about the other day. I shouldn’t have lost my temper.”

Bobby rubbed the bridge of his nose in thought and decided to rip this particular bandaid off. He needed Ellen to understand why he brushed her off, and that it may very well happen again now. Their relationship, for lack of a better word, was teetering on thin ice. Each weekend they spent together it was becoming more apparent they were after different things, and Bobby wasn’t sure how much longer this could go on. 

“Look, it’s fine. There was a lot going on.”

“Why was Crowley there?” she prodded. “I thought you and boys were done with him?”

“If the boys decided that, it’s for the best.” Bobby agreed. “I don’t have that luxury. Crowley not only confirmed some of my theories, but he had new information as well.”

“Well, what did you learn?” 

Bobby hesitated and made a split-second choice. He still wasn’t certain they were facing a war with Lucifer, and until he was he didn’t want to cause a panic. He’d have to tell the boys when they came by, and that was bad enough.

“We’re forming a pretty solid theory about what’s happening with the monsters, but Crowley had to do some more digging to know for sure.”

The white lie flowed easily even as a twinge of guilt settled in his chest. Even if he and Ellen broke things off, he didn’t want the woman getting involved in this crap. If a war was really was coming, humans wouldn’t have a place in it. This wasn’t an exorcism or a small hunt. They were facing down the possibility of hundreds if not thousands of nasties on the opposing side. 

It would be a bloodbath.

“Why is he helping you?” Ellen asked, suspicion dripping off her voice. 

“Revenge is a good motivator,” Bobby whispered. 

He wasn’t sure if that was the case, but it would definitely suit the demon. If you can’t bring back the person you lost, why not go after the people or things that killed them? Bobby wondered if Crowley realized there were more than a few hunters who could relate to that. 

“That implies he cared,” Ellen scoffed. “I doubt he cared about that archangel beyond what she could do for him.”

Bobby hummed but remained silent at Ellen’s comment. He didn’t agree with her, not after seeing Crowley’s reaction to that letter Azrial had left, but he wasn’t going to defend the demon. Hell, he doubted Crowley would  _ want  _ him to.

The silence dragged on for several seconds before Ellen carefully asked. “Should I come by this weekend?”

Bobby hesitated as he remembered the front hoe and digger that he had outside. He really didn’t want to explain to Ellen what was going on, but it may be best to get it over with.

“You can,” he offered. “But I’m going to be busy. I kept trying to call ya because something big happened, and I didn’t want to tell you over text.”

“I see.” Ellen’s voice was carefully neutral. “Well, I can just come down for the day then and you can tell me. I need a break from the bar.”

“Alright, I’ll see you then.”

Bobby hung up before anything else could be said and tossed the phone to the other side of his bed. He sighed running his hand over his face before laying back down. It was too early, even for him. Hopefully, he’d be able to get another hour or two of sleep.


	5. Crossroads

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the late upload. Work ran late and I completely forget to upload before I left for work. Enjoy the new chapter!

_ April 1, 2010 _

Michael opened his eyes slowly and stood from his throne. Each step still carried a deep, agonizing pain, but he pushed forward. Even in his true form, the pain was practically unending. He knew he should thank Father that he wasn’t as bad off as Raphael, but it was hard to be grateful in this situation. His wings dragged heavily against the floor as he slowly made his way toward Joshua’s garden. Was he doing the right thing? The question was haunting every moment of his life now. He’d been looking into his sister’s eyes as she died. He wasn’t sure if anyone else realized that if Lucifer or Raphael had been paying enough attention to notice the panic etched across her features.

Azrial and Gabriel had always hated the fighting, but unlike Gabriel, their sister never stopped trying to break it up. He blamed himself for that. He’d trained her far too well, and it gave her the confidence to stand between him and Lucifer. Gabriel had done so when Azrial was younger, still too small to really do much more than hide behind Gabriel’s legs when he and Lucifer had a disagreement. Gabriel had stopped trying by the time the arguing became about humanity, but Azrial had just been getting started.

“Your wounds are healing well, Michael.”

Michael shook his head. When had he reached the gardens? Joshua gave him a sympathetic smile as he continued to tend the rose bushes.

“Any word from Father?” Michael asked as he sat below the towering oak a few feet away. 

“Nothing since the gates shut at the New Year. I don’t think he will speak to me anymore, brother. I am sorry.”

Michael shut his eyes and exhaled softly. He needed guidance, now more than ever. He opened his eyes to look at Joshua once again. His form was a sunflower color, and it fit in the garden like the perfect puzzle piece. It was part of the reason Michael never tried to move him to another station. Was that why Father spoke to Joshua and no one else? Because Joshua was fully content with his place in the world?

“Joshua, I need you to be frank with me.”

“I will do my best, brother. What weighs on your mind?”

Michael looked up at the tree’s leaves, and his mind wandered back to a time before humanity. To the laughter and games the five archangels had once played. Before the battle for their Father’s right to create, before those disgusting creatures that were now locked firmly away in Purgatory, and before Lucifer fell and took his flock and several others with him.

“Am I doing the right thing? Is it perhaps time to put the apocalypse to rest, at least for now?”

Joshua was silent but Michael could feel his curiosity brimming like a cup about to overflow. 

“I think you are doing the right thing, brother. You shut the gates to protect us, to safeguard the souls under our protection. The End will come at our Father’s command, with or without us.”

Michael hummed and found himself nodding in agreement. There was a truth to his brother’s words. They rang with the knowledge of their Father, and Michael took solace in that.

“I miss them,” Michael admitted. “Azrial, Gabriel, and even Lucifer. I miss...being a family.”

“The Time Before was wonderful,” Joshua whispered. “Everyone was so happy. The war with the Leviathans was horrible, but we all recovered. We came out stronger. For a time, there was peace.”

“And then humanity was created,” Michael chuckled. “Do you know Castiel has become family with my and Lucifer’s vessels? They accept him as if he were one of their own.”

“Father had mentioned Castiel a few times. He seemed impressed that an angel could be so comfortable among humanity. Proud even.”

Michael hummed and slowly stood. He felt stronger than he had when he first entered the garden. More at peace with his choices.

“I will give the order after I speak with Raphael. Thank you for your counsel, Joshua.”

“No thanks are needed, brother. I was glad for the company.” Joshua paused and turned, handing him a white and blue flower. Michael gently took it, a feeling of nostalgia washing over him. This was one of Gabriel’s favorite contributions to their Father’s creation. It had been named a Moonflower.

Michael always speculated that their Father had used one of the flowers in Azrial’s creation.

“I think they would be happy with your choice, Michael.”

Michael hummed, unsure if Joshua meant their Father, Gabriel, Azrial, or some combination of them.

“I can only do what is in the best interest of Heaven, and the humans we have been sworn to protect. The signs are clear that Father doesn’t think we are ready for Paradise.” 

“It would seem so,” Joshua said. “You should go rest some more, brother. Feel free to visit anytime.”

“I think I shall.”

Michael walked from the gardens, feeling more at peace than he had in recent memory. This was the right thing to do. The Apocalypse wasn’t his only purpose, and it was time to refocus on what he could control.

Lucifer could wait until their Father was ready to bring The End.

**Line Break**

  
  


_ April 2, 2010 _

Castiel shot awake, panting heavily as he tried to calm his racing heart. Dean groaned, rolling over and firmly putting the pillow between them back up.

“I said don’t cross the damn pillow line,” Dean mumbled.

“Michael just issued an order,” Castiel whispered. Dean’s eyes opened and he sat up looking directly at him. “What did he say?”

Dean’s voice carried a heavy panic, and his eyes shot over to Sam who was still sound asleep. Castiel was still reeling, and he tried to find the words to express not only what his brother had said, but also how it was affecting him.

“Dean, it’s over,” Castiel finally choked out. “It’s  _ finally _ over.” 

“Cas, man, I just woke up,” Dean whined softly. “Don’t talk in riddles.”

Castiel shook his head and grabbed Dean’s hands, startling the hunter slightly. He looked Dean directly in the eye, unable to stop the waver in his voice.

“Michael ordered that the Apocalypse is to stop until our Father orders it to begin.” Castiel watched Dean’s eyes widen and felt his hands shaking. “Dean,  _ it’s over _ .”

Castiel couldn’t stop his voice from rising in pitch, and there was a soft groan from the other bed.

“Guys? Why the hell are you awake?”

“Dean, we can finally rest. It’s finally-”

Castiel was cut off by Dean yanking him close, and their lips crashed together. It took longer than Castiel cared to admit, but he did eventually kiss Dean back. He could feel Dean’s joy, his happiness, and relief at finding out the news. It was like a dam had broken, and the man was finally allowed to feel something other than perpetual worry about what was coming. 

“Guys, GUYS!” Sam yelled, though there was nothing more than exasperation in his voice. “I am right here. Can you  _ please  _ take your sexual tension somewhere else?”

Dean broke the kiss, and much to Castiel’s surprise he was smiling. Not those half-smiles or fake ones, but a true smile that made his eyes shine.

“Sammy, it’s over!” Dean shouted, and shot out of bed to tackle his brother. Castiel almost fell forward as his support disappeared, but turned to look at his friends with a smile. 

“Dean, Dean get off of me!” Sam shouted trying to push Dean away. 

“Sammy, it’s over. Michael called off the end of the world!” 

Sam stopped struggling at Dean’s cheerful shout. Castiel watched as he looked between his brother and him with wide eyes that made Sam look years younger. Castiel smiled and nodded to confirm what Dean was saying. Sam buried his head in Dean’s shoulder and held his brother tightly as he took in the news. Castiel slowly walked over, and Dean extended an arm. Castiel fell down next to Sam who shifted to clinging to both of them. He could hear the heavy exhale from Sam, it almost sounded like he was crying, as the three of them sat huddled together. 

“Cas,” Sam whispered. “What are you going to do?”

Castiel’s brows creased as he pulled away to look at Sam. “What do you mean?”

Sam looked at Dean, and the older hunter wilted slightly. Castiel looked between them, not following the silent conversation the two brothers seemed to have.

“He means that it’s over, Cas.” Dean quietly explained. “You can go home now. You can go back to Heaven if you want.”

Castiel frowned, not happy with the idea. Michael had offered a place back to the angels still trapped on Earth, but he had no desire to go. The idea also didn’t seem to sit well with Sam and Dean.

“I have no desire to return to Heaven. If you’d rather I go though-” He was quickly cut off by the two shouting, “No!” At the top of their lungs.

“We  _ want  _ you to stay, Cas.” Sam implored. “We just don’t want to keep you from being happy, either.”

“Look, I’m not about to deny what I just did,” Dean said softly. Sam moved off the bed to give them a bit of space as Dean continued. “Cas, man, you’re  _ family _ . We’d be dead God only knows how many times over if it weren’t for you. Fuck Michael, even if he finally did the right thing I don’t trust him to be impartial after everything you’ve done to help us.”

“The both of you are my family as well,” Castiel said. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Dean’s. “I love you.”

The admission was whispered, and Dean tangled his fingers through his and gave a gentle squeeze as Castiel looked over at Sam. “I love you both.”

Sam smiled, and he clearly understood that there was a difference but didn’t mind in the slightest. “You're my brother now too, Cas. Family looks out for each other.”

Sam’s words had Castiel’s eyes watering, but he refused to cry. “We need to tell Bobby what’s happened.”

“Shit,” Dean exhaled. “That’s right. What time is it?”

Sam grabbed his phone off the nightstand and looked down. “Uh, it’s 4 in the morning. So, we got around 5 hours of sleep.”

“Let’s head out now. We could get there by tomorrow morning, even if we don’t rush.”

“There’s no rush anymore,” Castiel said. “It’s finally just about what  _ we  _ want.”

The brother’s exchanged a smile, and Castiel found himself tackled under two laughing men. Their happiness was a physical weight and Castiel just held them.

This, to him, was proof his Father was still out there somewhere.

**Line Break**

Bobby looked up at the familiar sound of someone crash landing in his kitchen. He’d heard Castiel do it a few times, and it was never good. He grabbed his gun and made his way into the kitchen. He froze seeing Crowley bleeding profusely and gripping tightly to Azrial’s scythe. His entire suit was torn to shreds, and his chest was basically bare. What little of his shirt remained was drenched in blood. Bobby set his gun down and cautiously walked forward as the demon groaned.

“Where the hell am I?”

Bobby frowned. “Bleeding all over my kitchen floor, ya idjit.”

Crowley’s eyes opened, and Bobby froze at the burning red eyes staring back at him.

“Robert?” The demon’s voice was practically a growl. “Prove it.” 

Bobby watched Crowley’s hand twist tightly around the scythe. He struggled to find  _ something  _ only he would know about the demon, and then it hit him.

“Azrial’s last act was to royally piss you off by admitting she loved you.”

Crowley stared at him for a long second before his grip loosened on the scythe. He huffed, but it quickly turned into a coughing fit as he spit blood on the floor.

“Bollocks,” Crowley hissed. “I left the second page of the letter here, didn’t I?”

“I have it if you want it back. Now what the hell happened to you?” 

Bobby moved forward and helped the bleeding demon to his feet. Crowley still hadn’t fully let go of the massive weapon though and Bobby practically dropped him into a kitchen chair due to the weight.

“I got confirmation of our theory,” Crowley gruffly responded. 

“About the war? Crowley, don’t fucking tell me you snuck up on  _ Lucifer _ !”

Crowley shot him a dark look as finally held out the scythe. Bobby hesitated for a moment but slowly wrapped his hand around it. It was heavy, and as Crowley let go Bobby struggled to keep hold of it for a moment, but something about it felt strangely...right. Like an extension of his arm. Though, he had to shift his stance entirely to even keep hold of it. Crowley pulled off his tattered suit jacket, dropping it to the floor. The shirt followed and the demon snapped his fingers summoning the towel hanging on the stove to his hand. He placed it over the chest wound that was bleeding profusely, hissing in pain.

“I could swing my dick through that bastard's court right now and I doubt he’d notice me,” Crowley bitched. 

“Thanks for that lovely mental image,” Bobby huffed. “Did you  _ really _ do something that fucking reckless? Of all the people in my life, I never expected that level of idiocy from you!”

“It was necessary! It’s not like I waltzed into Hell and asked ‘is our daddy starting a war?’ I’m not a moron!”

“You risked your damn life,” Bobby growled. He was gripping the scythe tighter, and his stance had shifted so he was practically yelling down at Crowley. “What would have happened if you died?”

“Not a damn soul would have cared,” Crowley growled. The demon was on his feet, and glaring back at him with just as much anger. “Stop acting like a fucking saint, Robert. That’s Anderson’s job.”

“Oh get off your damn high horse, your highness. There are people who fucking care about what happens to you, so stop acting like you’re some big bad loner.”

“Really, pet? Name one fucking person who cares if I drop dead tomorrow?” Crowley snarled taking a menacing step forward. Bobby didn’t back down, white-knuckling the scythe in his hand. Azrial wouldn’t have let this go, Bobby thought. She wanted Crowley alive, and damn it he owed the archangel that much. That wasn’t even to mention how  _ he’d _ feel if the demon died.

“You’re really fucking dense for being so damn smart,” Bobby hissed back. He used his height to his advantage, looking down at Crowley. “You’re acting like a brat.”

“And you’re overstepping, Singer. I don’t know who the hell you think you are,  _ darling _ , but I don’t take orders from you.”

Crowley’s voice had devolved into an animalistic growl, and Bobby swallowed at the dark look in the demon’s eyes. He was flirting with death at this point, but something deep in his gut told him Crowley wouldn’t hurt him.

_ Fucking hell, if I die here I’ll never be able to live it down _ .

“I’m talking sense since you clearly aren’t  _ thinking _ shit through.”

“Then answer my damn question,” Crowley snarled. “Who the fuck would care if I died?”

“I FUCKING WOULD, YOU SELFISH SELF-DEPRECATING IDJIT!”

Crowley’s mouth snapped shut and his red eyes were staring at him with open shock. Bobby shut his eyes, exhaling heavily. Why did he have to blurt  _ that _ out?

_ Because you already lost one person you wanted to get to know better. _

“Damn it,” Bobby sighed. He opened his eyes, but Crowley was still looking at him like he’d seen a ghost. “What?”

“You,” Crowley exhaled, and it devolved into a dark laugh. It was a touch demented, but his eyes looked broken so Bobby remained silent. “You sound like Azrial.”

Bobby’s heart sank, but Crowley stepped closer into his space brushing a hand against his cheek. He narrowed his eyes at the thoughtful look on the demon’s face.

“The hell are you doing?” Bobby whispered.

“Enjoying the moment,” Crowley admitted. “I’m in more pain than I’ll ever admit, and your emotions are running high. I can  _ feel _ the tension, grief, worry, and heartache from you.”

“What are you, a damn angel now?” Bobby snapped.

Crowley chuckled and pulled something out of his pocket. Bobby looked down and paled at the sight of the empty vial that had once held Azrial’s grace.

“At the moment, I’m so high on angel grace I’m feeling disgustingly  _ human _ .”

“You idjit,” Bobby exhaled. “That could have purified your dumbass!”

“I had Azrial inside of me. A small amount of her grace wasn’t going to do any damage. The only side effect is,” Crowley paused. “Well, you just saw it. I get rather  _ emotional _ .”

“You can actually feel my emotions because of it?” Bobby asked in disbelief.

“I can read minds, Robert.” Crowley snarked, slowly stepping back so they weren’t chest to chest. “I”m basically on steroids right now, and it’s making it hard  _ not  _ to feel you. I wouldn’t normally invade your privacy like that. I don’t get off on getting shot full of rock salt, after all.” 

Bobby believed him but tried to calm his own emotions for Crowley’s sake. He wasn’t just feeling those things, and he appreciated the demon not bringing up anything else that was running through his mind.

“Well, you were always smarter than the average demon.”

Crowley snorted and fell back into the chair with a tired sigh. He flexed his fingers before taking a deep breath. His hand glowed blue, and Bobby watched transfixed as the demon placed his hand against the massive wound. He hissed as the wound sealed shut leaving behind a small scar.

“Damn,” Crowley growled. “Never hurt when she healed me.”

“It’s still raw grace, even if it is from Azrial. Maybe she had a way to stop it from hurting.”

“Maybe,” Crowley muttered. “Here, give me that massive eyesore so I can get it back to a manageable size before the grace wears off.”

Bobby walked forward and pressed the scythe into Crowley’s outstretched hand. The demon took a deep breath and the scythe melted back into a blade. Crowley set it on the table and leaned back against the chair with a tired sigh. 

“What did you actually do?” Bobby asked, pulling up a chair. 

“I found a meeting spot for vampires. I asked if they’d been ordered underground, and they had nothing nice to say about the situation.”

“Vamps did this to you?” 

“No. Demons did. The meeting place I found was the Alpha’s lair.”

Bobby paled and looked at the tired demon in shock. “The Alpha let you walk in?”

“The Alpha had a lot to say, and when he found out I wasn’t siding with Lucifer he happily filled me in.”

“Why?”

“He was ordered to,” Crowley whispered.

Bobby didn’t like the sound of that. From what Crowley said, Alpha’s were no joke. Who the hell would they take orders from?

“Crowley, how did you get injured?”

“After the Alpha explained his situation, the nest was attacked by Lucifer loyalists. The bastard threw me to the wolves to buy time for him and his darling children to escape.”

“So you chugged Azrial’s grace like an energy drink and decided if you were dying, you’d take the bastards with you? Let me guess, you were fucking Scottish when you were alive.”

Crowley froze and Bobby’s eyes widened. “Fuck. You were, weren’t you?”

“Moving on,” Crowley hissed. “I killed them all, and it will be blamed on the vampires. Hope Lucifer guts the fucking bastards.”

“What did he tell you? And who ordered him to?” Bobby shot the questions off, ignoring the surprise discovery for now. He made a mental note to look into it more though. Somehow picturing Crowley in a kilt amused him to no end.

“He said Lucifer approached him, promising cattle in exchange for siding with him against Michael.”

“Balls,” Bobby whispered. “Did he take the offer?”

“No. That’s why they’re underground. The Alpha laughed Lucifer out of his presence, and Lucifer couldn’t kill him for fear of pissing off something far greater than Michael. At least that’s what the Alpha said.”

“That isn’t a comforting thought,” Bobby muttered. “Damn it, that means we really are facing a war.”

“The good news is all the Alphas have turned the bastard down. That’s why you haven’t been able to find them, and I suggest you don’t look. They are hiding out in downright  _ massive _ nests if the vampires are anything to go by.”

“I’ll send the word out,” Bobby said. “So, who forced this Alpha to play messenger? I’d think they’d be above such things.” 

Crowley looked away, a dark look crossing his face. “Normally they would be, but there are a few beings I wouldn’t even say no to.”

“Crowley,” Bobby paused. Did he really want to voice his absurd thoughts? “It wasn’t, ya know...God, was it?”

“No,” Crowley scoffed. “And for the record, I’d tell that holy prick to shove it up his arse.”

“Ballsy,” Bobby snorted. “So who was it?”

“The one being we’re all a slave to,” Crowley muttered. “Azrial’s boss.”

Bobby paled and swallowed back the fear that settled in his chest. “Death?  _ Death _ is meddling in our damn lives now?”

“It would appear so. He had one other thing to pass on from Death besides what Lucifer was up to.”

“What?”

“Let the pieces know that the game has just begun,” Crowley quoted. “Ominous, isn’t it?”

Bobby shut his eyes and dropped his face into his hands. “Damn it, why can’t things go back to normal?”

“You’d miss my pretty face if they did,” Crowley sarcastically responded.

“Fuck you,” Bobby huffed. “We’re screwed, aren’t we?”

“Oh, absolutely. Do you have any more scotch? I don’t want to die sober.”

Bobby sighed but went to get the bottle. He did his best thinking a touch sloshed anyway.

  
  



	6. Sweet Child O’ Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've reached the halfway point again. Thanks for sticking with me.   
> Arc 3 is coming along, just at a much slower pace due to how much happens. I'll keep you posted on when to expect the next installment.

_ April 3, 2010 _

“How fucking dare he?” Lucifer screamed the question, causing several demons to jump. He began pacing in front of the throne. “Who the hell does Michael think he is? He can’t just,” Lucifer screamed in frustration. “He can’t just CALL OFF the damn Apocalypse! Who does he think he is, Dad?”

One of the demons was in his way and Lucifer snapped his fingers with an annoyed snarl, disintegrating it. What the hell had changed? Michael’s choice now made it so 3 of the archangels had put humans before angels. At least Raphael seemed to have some damn sense in his head, and even then there was something fishy going on there.

“What, am I suddenly not good enough?” Lucifer snapped at one of his demons. The demon shrunk away submissively but still responded.

“Of course you are, Sire.”

“Exactly! I’m a damn treat,” Lucifer snarled. “We’ve waited a millennium for this fight. Now he’s becoming all noble and understanding? BULLSHIT!”

The demon jumped but nodded frantically in agreement. Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose, his form crackling like burning wood. His vessel was destroyed, he was pissed off, and absolutely done with his damn siblings. Azrial chose Crowley, Gabriel brought a fucking dimension down on their head, Raphael was plotting something, and Michael was becoming noble of all things!

“Change of plans,” Lucifer snarled. The demon left in the throne room stood up straighter, clearly waiting for orders. “I’d assumed there would be no need to recall the Princes. If Michael wants to be a noble fucking bastard, I’m going to destroy everything he holds dear.”

“Sire?” The demon tentatively asked.

“Find the Princes of Hell. Tell them to return, or risk my wrath. If Michael won’t give me a simple fucking battle, I’m going to force his hand with a war.”

The demon bowed and scurried out of the room, leaving one other demon in Lucifer’s presence. Lucifer sighed and fell back into the throne. 

“You,” Lucifer waved his hand and the demon scurried forward. “What’s your name?” 

“Anthony, Sire.”

“Anthony, what do you know about Crowley?”

The demon lifted his head, curiosity clear in his black eyes. “He was one of Lilith’s lovers for a time, Sire. He’s always been,” the demon paused, seeming to mull over his thoughts. “Too smart. He seems to have known from the day he arrived what Hell would be like. Of course, this is all speculation. I’m younger than him by a good 200 years, and I heard most of this from others.”

“I see,” Lucifer paused and looked at the young demon. “Have you ever heard of the angel Samael?”

The demon frowned and gave a hesitant shake of his head. “No, Sire, I haven’t. Was he one of the Fallen?” 

“No,” Lucifer mused. “He was not, but I’m starting to have my suspicions about what happened to him. Who held Crowley’s contract?”

“Lilith to my knowledge, Sire.”

“Then it’s likely Crowley destroyed any evidence of his deal,” Lucifer huffed. “Does anyone know who he was while alive?”

“Maybe some of the older demons,” Anthony cautiously offered. “Crowley was very proactive in putting anyone that stood against him down though. Lilith never reined him in.”

“What a shame,” Lucifer whispered. “Anthony, be a doll and fetch Kipling.”

“Yes, Sire.”

The demon scampered off and Lucifer watched him go with a thoughtful look. It was speculation of course, but there was something off about that bastard Crowley. Having Azrial inside of him without any sort of buffer was unheard of, and her grace should have burned him to a crisp. Then again, there had never been an angel and demon who’d tried such a thing. Let alone an archangel.

“She’d have sensed it though,” he muttered to himself. “Wouldn’t she?”

It was a possibility he couldn’t deny with how slippery Crowley was. All of the angels who’d originally fallen had changed their names, so even if Samael had fallen later there was the chance he’d changed his name as well. Lucifer looked up as Kipling entered, bowing low before raising his head.

“How can I be of use, Sire?”

“Kipling, I have a job for you. Let’s call it an extermination plan.”

The demon’s smirk was predatory and Lucifer couldn’t help the slight upturn of his lips. If Crowley was more than he seemed, perhaps he could use the demon. If not, well, he’d make a wonderful example of what happened to traitors.

**Line Break**

Bobby almost screamed as his phone rang again. “Go get me a damn beer if you’re gonna just sit there and laugh at my suffering!” He snapped at Crowley. The demon didn’t hesitate or mouth off, which Bobby was grateful for as he picked up the phone.

“Singer here.”

“Bobby,” his name was rushed out, but he recognized the voice right away. “Bobby it’s Garth. I found a kid.”

Bobby rubbed his temple and leaned back in his chair. “Let me guess, she has black hair, blue eyes, and seems overly friendly.”

Garth was silent for a beat. “How did you know that?”

“I’ve been getting calls all damn afternoon, Garth. Tell me, is she solid? There’s no chance she’s a ghost right?”

“She’s playing with a bracelet I own. It’s pure iron and she doesn’t seem at all bothered by it.”

“Alright, she say anything?”

“Uh...said I have a pretty soul. Whatever that means. Bobby, what should I do? She can’t be human.”

“A pretty soul,” Bobby mulled over the words as Crowley walked back in. A beer was set in front of him and the demon raised an eyebrow and cut in. “It could be an angel or a demon.”

“In a kid? I thought only Lilith pulled that crap?” Crowley shrugged and Garth’s voice carried over the phone.

“Hey, sweetheart, are you looking for anyone?”

Bobby could barely make out the chipper response, but Garth repeated it for his sake.

“Says she’s looking for her brother, Gabby.”

“Probably short for something. What’s her name?”

There was silence, and then Garth cursed. “Shit! I’m sorry Bobby, she just left.” 

Bobby sighed and ran a hand down his face. “That’s been happening all day. At least we know a bit more than before.”

“Hello!” The chipper childish voice echoed from behind Crowley. Bobby’s head snapped up as Crowley shot to his feet like a startled cat; hissing and all. 

“Bobby! Are you okay? Did she show up there?”

Garth’s frantic questions went unanswered as Bobby stared at the child who stood a few feet in front of them. Crowley looked like he’d had a heart attack, but despite his amusement Bobby kept his eyes pinned on the child.

“Yeah,” he responded slowly. “I’ll call you later, Garth.”

“Be careful, Bobby. She’s rather slippery.”

The phone call ended and Bobby stood up. He slowly walked forward and noted the child didn’t seem at all worried. She was looking around the room curiously, and her bright eyes seemed to be taking everything in.

“Hello,” he cautiously offered back. “Can I help ya?”

Her bright eyes turned toward him, and she smiled. Bobby frowned at the familiar features of the child. If he didn’t know better, he’d say this was a young Azrial.

“I’m looking for my brother.”

The child didn’t explain further, and Bobby shot Crowley a searching look. The demon was staring at the childlike he’d seen a ghost.

“Crowley, is there something ya want to tell me?”

“Like  _ what _ , Robert?” The demon hissed.

“Like why you didn’t mention you and Azrial had a kid?”

Bobby gauged the demon’s reaction, but there really was no doubt the assumption was wrong.

“What!” Crowley screeched. “Don’t you think I’d know if I had a child? Even if I didn’t, when would Azrial have had time to be pregnant?”

“I only assumed you started,” he paused looking at the child who was watching them with curious eyes. “ _ Shacking up _ recently. I could’ve been wrong.” Bobby defended himself.

“The first time we  _ shacked up  _ was after we met with you morons, not that it’s any of your business. I can’t believe you asked me that,” Crowley muttered. Bobby rolled his eyes and turned away from the demon. The little girl tilted her head and walked up to him. 

“You’re very pretty,” she happily pointed out. “Can you help me find my brother?”

Bobby knelt down, though he noticed Crowley keeping a wary eye on the child. He’d be able to pull his gun even from this position, but it was good to know the demon was ready to attack as well. 

“I can try. What’s your brother’s name?”

“Gabby!” the child cheerfully responded, her little arms swinging back and forth. She was rather short and Bobby was having a hard time pinning an age to her. Maybe five? At most? She didn’t even come up to his waist.

“Is that his full name? I need to know his full name to find him.”

She frowned and seemed to consider it. “Luci and Mikey call him Gabriel.”

Bobby shot a look at Crowley, and the demon had stiffened. He saw the archangel blade fall into his hand, but Crowley didn’t make a move yet.

“Oh,” Bobby did his best to keep his voice even. “What’s your name?”

Her smile seemed to increase at the question, and her tiny hand reached out and grabbed his. 

“My name is Azrial! Will you be my friend? Gabby always says we can use more friends!”

Bobby swallowed the multitude of questions that came to his mind. He doubted this child, and he had no doubt now that she was still a  _ child _ , would be able to answer any of them. He looked over at Crowley, and the demon was pale. His dark eyes were a storm of emotion and he was white-knuckling the archangel blade. 

“Of course, princess,” Bobby responded, pushing down his own messy emotions. “How did you wind up here?”

“I couldn’t feel Gabby,” she mumbled but then perked up. “So I looked for grace! Mikey says I can  _ always _ find them if I look for grace.”

“Where do you feel grace?” Crowley cooly asked. 

The child’s big blue eyes shifted to Crowley, and to Bobby’s surprise, she let go of his hand and walked over to the demon. Crowley didn’t kneel down and his face was still pinched in clear skepticism.

“You have grace,” she pointed out as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You aren’t one of my brothers, though.”

Crowley’s face was pinched in distaste, and he pursed his lips. “No. I am not related to you.”

The child frowned, and Bobby almost yelped as she jumped up. Fluffy grey wings, like a young bird, held her at eye height to Crowley. The demon looked startled but didn’t back up. 

“But you  _ feel _ like me,” the child huffed. “If you aren’t  _ related  _ to me, Daddy must have  _ made _ you for me!”

Bobby snorted and he felt his chest burn as he swallowed back his laughter. Crowley looked so offended that he was sure the demon would burst into flames from aggravation. The small angel leaned forward and with a defter hand than most thieves, Crowley’s tie was undone and in her tiny hand.

“Let’s play a game!” She chirped, and Crowley’s eyes flashed red as he realized what she’d grabbed. “If you can catch me, we can be bestest friends!”

A moment later she vanished with a childish laugh, and Crowley spun on him looking absolutely furious.

“Did you see what she did?” he demanded. Bobby laughed walking over to his desk and sitting down. He felt something brush against his calf, warm and fuzzy, and suppressed a knowing smile.

“She’s a  _ child _ , Crowley. Are you about to tell me as an adult Aziral didn’t make off with your clothing?”

The demon’s lips pursed, and Bobby snorted at the mutinous look. There was a story there, and he was sure he could wrangle it out of the demon with enough alcohol. That level of alcohol may finally kill his liver though, so Bobby pushed the thought aside. 

“Where am I even supposed to look for her?” Crowley growled as he sheathed the blade.

“She probably hasn’t gone far,” Bobby chuckled. “Go look outside, and case the property.”

“Fine. Once I catch the brat, what are we going to do?” Bobby raised an eyebrow and Crowley elaborated. “She’s an  _ archangel child _ , Robert. How long until someone senses her?”

Bobby frowned. “You can’t sense her?”

“Your house is a vault. If she’s outside, it’s no wonder I can’t sense her.”

“Well,” Bobby began, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice. “When you find her, we’ll test that theory.”

“Fine,” Crowley huffed. The demon vanished a moment later and Bobby waited several seconds before pulling back and smiling down at the grinning child hiding under his desk.

“I don’t have many snacks, but how ‘bout I make us lunch and you can tell me about how you ended up here.”

He offered her a hand, and she smiled and took it. Her small wings were almost as large as she was and the fluffy appendages were rather ruffled. He took in her appearance and noticed her wing trick had ripped the simple white dress she was wearing. She was barefoot, and her hip-length black hair was a matted mess due to all her flying around. 

“Will the nice man be mad?”

Bobby patted her head and guided her toward the kitchen. She clung to him more readily than he expected. He picked her up, more on instinct than anything else, and sat her at the table. 

“I think you made him happier than he’s been in a long time,” Bobby admitted. He’d seen more life in Crowley’s eyes than he had in a while, and even if he was  _ aggravated  _ at the small archangel, he wasn’t  _ angry _ .

“I’m glad. Daddy always said I’d have to look after others, I just didn’t know it would be so soon.”

Bobby frowned as he dug through the fridge. The relief in her tiny voice was palpable. There was more raw honesty there than he’d ever heard in Azrial’s voice while she was alive. 

“So, how did you wind up here?”

“Gabby and I were playing in the garden. He wanted to practice his powers, and he said it could be like a game.”

“Balls,” Bobby whispered. He set the deli meat out and the tiny angel watched his every move with sharp curiosity. “Well, I’ve met your brother. That sounds like somethin’ he’d do.”

She perked up at the mention of Gabriel, though Bobby didn’t share her enthusiasm. He’d wring the bastard's neck next time he saw him at this rate. He set a sandwich in front of her, and Azrial, fuck that was a weird concept, reached out for it.

“What is this?” 

The genuine curiosity in her voice stopped Bobby from automatically telling her to just eat it. 

“It’s called a sandwich.”

“Oh,” she tentatively picked it up and sniffed it. So she did know what food was at least. She took a hesitant bite, and her eyes widened in surprise.

“Good?” He asked with an amused smile.

“Yes!”

**Line Break**

Dean pulled up in front of Bobby’s and reached over to gently shake Sam awake. His brother jolted away with a long yawn. Castiel was stretching in the back seat, and Dean smiled at them both.

“So, how are we gonna explain this to Bobby?”

“I think we should just come out and tell him,” Sam said. 

“I agree. Bobby prefers us to be straight forward,” Castiel pointed out.

Dean laughed and pushed open his door. “Well, that was a useless conversation.”

They made their way inside, entering through the kitchen as that was the only light on currently. Bobby looked up as Dean crossed the threshold, and smiled. 

“What brings you by? Normally I’m lucky to see ya once in two months.” 

“We have some good news, and we didn’t want to call when we were so close.”

Dean noted Bobby’s face fell a bit, and a small knot of worry formed in his stomach. There was no way something bad had happened, right? Not when Michael had called off the Apocalypse less than 48 hours ago.

“Is something wrong?” Sam asked as he took a seat. Dean followed suit and Castiel leaned against the counter. Bobby ran a hand over his face with a sigh.

“I have a lot to tell you boys, but let’s hear what you came to say first.”

“Cas, why don’t you tell it? We didn’t hear the full deal anyway.” 

Castiel hummed at Sam’s prompting and turned to Bobby with a small smile. “Michael has finally seen the error of his ways. Around two days ago, he called off the Apocalypse once and for all. The Gates of Heaven have once more been sealed, and until Father orders otherwise, the Apocalypse will not happen.”

Dean watched Bobby’s reaction carefully. He’d expected a sigh of relief, a call to celebrate, something  _ happy _ . Instead, Bobby’s face crumpled and his head fell into his hands with an exhaled, “Balls!”

“Bobby, what’s wrong? This is great news.” 

Sam’s worry was clear and Dean wished he could find the words to express the disappointment and resignation that was slowly filling his body. 

“First, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you boys this sooner,” Bobby apologized. “Back in February, I signed up with the Vatican as a freelance researcher.”

“Seriously?” Sam asked, not hiding his excitement. “That’s amazing! I can’t imagine everything you have access to.”

Bobby’s lips twitched but Dean saw the worry in his eyes. “What did you have to give them?” Dean pushed, not believing this  _ miracle  _ came without strings.

“I’m always on call, but beyond that,” Bobby snorted. “I robbed them, well, more accurately  _ Crowley _ robbed them.”

Bobby reached over some of the books on the kitchen table for three folders and pushed one toward each of them. Dean opened it and stared at the stack of IDs and paperwork. It was so strange seeing his real name on documents, and he looked up at Bobby in surprise.

“What is this?”

“Part of my fee,” Bobby admitted. “Apparently there are places out there where hunters are a legitimate setup. The United States just ain’t one of ‘em. The Vatican wiped your criminal record as well.” 

Dean’s mouth went dry and he threw the folder down. “What did you give them?” he demanded. “What did you give  _ Crowley _ for setting all this up?”

“Crowley did it free of charge,” Bobby defended. “He just likes fucking with the Vatican. Secondly, they’ve been after me for years, and Rowen had more pressure on him than before thanks to the world ending.” 

“So what? You asked for all this and they just rolled over?”

“No, Dean.” Bobby snapped. “I asked for a six-figure salary and my  _ independence _ , something Rowen doesn’t have. I never expected them to nut up and take my offer.”

Silence hung over the room and Bobby sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long-ass day. If you want the full story, I’m happy to tell you in the morning. The highlights are that I didn’t sell my soul, to the Vatican or Crowley, and I now have more money than I really know what to do with.”

“That is relatively good news,” Castiel said. “So why are you not happy about Michael pulling back?”

Dean watched Bobby’s face crumple further. It was like all the hope had been sucked out of him, and Dean wished he hadn’t gotten his hopes up. Castiel shot him a worried look, but Dean shook his head and turned back to Bobby.

“It took a few months, but Crowley and I confirmed it.” Bobby paused and took a deep breath. “Lucifer is building an army. He was trying to recruit monsters, but it backfired on him. That doesn’t mean he hasn’t been successful on other fronts though.”

Sam let out a choked sound, and his head fell to the table. Dean stared at Bobby trying to comprehend how things had gone so  _ wrong _ . They had been happy, hopeful even, for one small moment. Now they were talking about  _ war _ ?

“No,” Castiel whispered. “No. Michael called it  _ off _ .”

“I’m sorry, boys.”

Castiel covered his face, and Dean stood up and walked over to him. “Cas, we’ll figure it out. We always do.”

Castiel laughed drily and looked at him in disbelief. “We were finally  _ free _ , Dean. Why can’t Lucifer just roll over and accept Michael’s choice?”

“Because he’s a dick, Cas. We’ll figure it out though. We’ve gotten this far, right?”

Castiel looked panicked and like he was about to start pacing so Dean grabbed his hand, trying to steady the angel.

“Wars are won with  _ armies _ , Dean. We don’t even have a general.”

“Cas has a point, Dean,” Sam sighed. “Where will we get an army to go against Hell?”

“We take it one day at a time,” Dean said. He pulled himself up and looked around the room. “We’ve done the impossible before, and we’ll damn well do it again.”

“There is one other thing,” Bobby said. “Earlier today-”

“Bobby?” A tiny, tired, voice stopped Bobby mid-sentence. 

Dean turned toward the living room where the sound came from but didn’t see anything with the light off.

“Why not come over here, princess?” Bobby gently prompted. “I was just telling them ‘bout you.”

Dean watched a tiny head peek out from behind the wall. Big blue eyes stared back at them, and he heard Castiel’s strangled exhale as the little girl darted into the room toward Bobby. She practically crawled into his lap and to Dean’s surprise, Bobby didn’t seem fazed.

“Holy shit,” Sam whispered. 

“Hi,” the child shyly muttered. She buried her face in Bobby’s chest, though she seemed interested in Castiel. Dean couldn’t look away from her familiar features, and he struggled to keep from yelling as he turned back to Bobby.

“When the  _ hell _ did Crowley have time to knock Azrial up?”

Castiel hissed in distaste at Dean’s question, but Bobby shook his head.

“She ain’t their kid,” Bobby said. “Princess, this is Dean,” Bobby pointed toward him and Dean waved unsure what else to do. “Castiel, and Sam. Why don’t ya tell them your name.”

She looked at them for a few moments and then gave a bright smile. “My name is Azrial! If Bobby likes you, I like you too.”

Castiel stepped forward and the kid looked up at him in surprise, “Oh! Grace!”

Without warning, she launched at Castiel who could do nothing but catch the child shaped projectile. Tiny hands grabbed his cheeks and Dean snorted at the way she pushed Castiel’s cheeks together.

“You aren’t Gabby, Mikey, or Luci,” the child mused. “What’s your name? Are we related? When did Father make you? Can we be best friends?”

Castiel blinked owlishly at the rush of questions and shot him a confused and pleading look. Dean lost his fight with laughter and practically doubled over as the kid seemed to vibrate with energy in Castiel’s arms.

“What the bloody hell is going on in here?” 

Dean turned to see Crowley, looking like he just woke up, leaning against the entrance to the kitchen.

“Crow!” the child yelled and practically threw herself from Castiel’s arms. Dean yelped as she literally  _ flew _ past him on tiny, overly fluffy, grey wings. 

Crowley grunted as she impacted against his chest, but didn’t try to dislodge her. She crawled over his shoulder, her tiny legs wrapping around his neck so she was riding piggyback on his shoulders. She began petting his hair, preening Dean realized, as she smiled brightly at Castiel. 

“Cassie,” the kid chirped. “This is my bestest friend in the world, Crow. Daddy made him for me! Isn’t that so nice?”

Castiel looked one word away from screaming bloody murder, and Dean knew this wasn’t going to end well.

“Is that so,” Castiel tersely responded. “How do you know that?”

The child tilted her head, resting her tiny chin against Crowley’s hair. The demon looked resigned to what was happening, and Dean wondered how long the kid had been here.

“Crow has some of my grace,” she said as if it explained everything. “Daddy wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t belong to me.”

“What am I? A glorified stuffed animal?” Crowley grumbled, steadying the kid as she shifted her weight.

“You’re my bestest friend,” she corrected.

“Of course. How could I ever forget,” Crowley said with a roll of his eyes. He didn’t sound upset though, which surprised Dean. He seemed content with being treated like a glorified climbing tree as long as the kid was happy.

“Okay, not to repeat Crowley’s question, but what the hell is going on?” Dean asked.

“Honestly, we don’t even know how she-” Bobby began to talk when Dean noticed Crowley and Castiel stiffen.

“The wards are being attacked,” Crowley growled.

“Balls,” Bobby hissed. “Know by what?”

“Demons,” Castiel bluntly responded. “If they see  _ her _ here, we’ll be hunted until the end of time.”

Crowley gently pulled the kid off his shoulders, and to Dean’s surprise handed her off to Castiel.

“Crow? Where are you going?” She was already squirming to get away from Castiel, and Crowley handed her a red cloth. She took it, looking up at the demon with wide eyes.

“You need to hide,” Crowley bluntly stated. “Stay with Castiel, and I’ll come get you when it’s over.”

“Promise?”

Dean could see the hesitance in Crowley’s eyes. He clearly didn’t want to make a promise he wasn’t sure he could keep. “Of course, darling. Keep my tie safe.”

She nodded and clung to the fabric. “Okay. Don’t take long.”

“Castiel, I changed the warding on the panic room a bit. You’ll be able to get in now. Go hide down there with her, alright?”

Castiel frowned at Bobby’s order. “I should be helping you fight.”

“Like you said, if anyone finds the princess here things will go to shit. Crowley and I still haven’t figured out  _ where  _ or  _ when  _ she came from. What would Hell do if they caught her?”

Castiel paled and finally nodded. “Very well, I’ll keep her safe.”

“Moose, come help me. We’re going to need hex bags if the bastard I’m sensing decides to barge in.”

Crowley stalked into the living room, and the area lit up with a snap of his fingers. The kid let out a tiny whine, and Dean watched Castiel head toward the basement with her.

“How the hell am I supposed to help with hex bags?” Sam grumbled, following Crowley anyway.

Now wasn’t the time to argue, and Dean just hoped they were still alive to have a screaming match in a few hours.


	7. First Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the dealy. I worked until 23:30 last night, and by the time I got home, I fell into bed. It didn't even dawn on me it was Saturday. Makes me wish there was a queue system for chapters haha.
> 
> TW/CW: Blood, injury, cursing

**Chapter Seven**

_ First Blood _

_ Late Night, April 3, 2010 _

Kipling smirked as the Winchesters and their pet angel entered the hunter’s house. “This is just too easy.”

“Should we attack now, sir?” One of the lesser demons asked. Kipling hummed and turned toward Meg. She was watching the angel with an almost hungry gaze, and he knew she’d be going for him if given the chance.

“No,” she said. “Can’t you idiots feel the wards? They will need to be burnt off, and the moment we start doing so everyone in the house will know.”

“She’s right. Give it a few moments, and then you,” he pointed at one of the two lesser demons. “Will enter through the door the Winchesters just went in.”

“Crowley is here,” Meg hissed. “You sense him, don’t you?”

“I do,” Kipling nodded. “Remember our Father’s orders. He is to be taken alive.”

Meg scoffed. “I don’t understand  _ why _ . He’s nothing special, just a glorified salesman with delusions of grandeur.” 

“He also managed to bed an archangel,” Kipling snapped, giving her a warning glare. “Lucifer wants revenge for his sister’s honor.”

“She spread her legs for the bastard, how’s that our Father’s problem?” Meg huffed.

“Watch your tongue, child,” Kipling warned. “He may favor you, but if you’re caught speaking against him that won’t help you. Did no one tell you that they shared a vessel?”

Meg froze and shot Kipling a disbelieving look. “Crowley, the slimy bastard in  _ sales _ , held an archangel in his body?”

“That is what Lucifer said.”

Meg fell silent and gave a slow nod. “Maybe the shit stain is worth something after all.”

“That is what Father hopes to find out. So we must take him alive, though he did not specify Crowley had to be in one piece.”

“Small miracles,” Meg sighed. “Let’s drag down these wards and get home. I want to get back to the troops.”

Kipling nodded and turned toward the other two demons. “As soon as the wards are down, enter the house.”

“Yes sir,” they both answered.

Kipling turned toward the house and slammed his power into the wards. They lit up and Meg let out a strangled gasp. “This must be the most paranoid hunter of all time. How the fuck is Crowley even in there?”

“He’s keyed in, now focus.”

Meg huffed but slammed her power into the wards as well. It took several minutes, but one by one each ward fell. 

“Go!” Kipling snapped and the two demons sprinted toward the door just as the last ward fell. Meg took a steadying breath, a slight sheen of sweat on her forehead. 

“I didn’t expect that to take so much effort,” she admitted.

“We wouldn’t have been able to do it alone,” he said. “Let’s go.”

They had just crossed the threshold as Sam threw something at one of the lesser demons. The moment the item connected the demon burst into flames with a scream of agony. The young hunter looked shocked it worked, but Crowley chuckled stepping forward.

“Good job, Moose.”

“You owe me a damn explanation,” Sam demanded.

“After we put this skank and bootlicker into an early grave,” Crowley growled. Kipling frowned as a blade fell into Crowley’s hand. Crowley was standing between them and the eldest hunter, Singer if he recalled. 

“You aren’t a fighter, Crowley. Just come with us quietly.”

“Shove it up your arse, Kipling. I’d rather die here then let Lucifer kill me.”

Kipling sighed and looked over at their remaining minion. “You survived?”

“Be careful, Sir,” the demon warned. “There is a devil’s trap here.”

“Good to know,” he said. With a snap of his fingers, the demon fell to the ground dead. Crowley narrowed his eyes, silent judgment rolling off him. That’s what he hated about the bastard. Crowley had a holier than thou attitude when it came to how things should be. It was infuriating, and in his opinion, Crowley never should have been allowed to take over the Crossroads because of it. 

“Well, this is already taking too long,” Meg growled. She flicked her wrist and the Winchesters were flung into a wall. It was the signal Crowley seemed to be waiting for, and he launched at him with a speed Kipling wasn’t expecting. There was no hesitation in the strikes and, to his horror, Crowley sliced deeply into his cheek. He stepped back, and Crowley adjusted with an ease that made Kipling wonder if Lucifer’s theory may be right. 

A shot rang out, and Meg staggered back and dropped the Winchesters in the process. Her furious gaze moved toward Singer and she raised her hand to kill him. She was halted by Sam attacking and another shot rang out. Kipling ducked a well-aimed blow, and with a growl drew the weapon Lucifer had given him. The long blade, similar in length to an angel blade, fell into his hand. He attacked Crowley, and the demon hissed as he barely managed to dodge the first blow.

“Just surrender, Crowley! You can’t keep running forever.”

“I can, and fucking will. Lucifer can go fuck himself,” Crowley snarled.

“Fine,” Kipling hissed. “We’ll do this the hard way.”

He twisted out of the way of Crowley’s next strike and slammed the blade into the demon’s side. Crowley hissed in pain and tried to push him off.

Kipling pulled the blade out of Crowley with a frown. “Just stay still. I’ll deal with you after I kill the humans.”

Crowley chuckled, his red eyes dancing with amusement. “Are you sure about that?”

Kipling frowned as he felt his body heating up. Crowley smirked, his eyes flashing with murderous amusement. “Checkmate, bastard.”

Kipling stared in horror as he realized what Crowley had done.

“You piece of-!” He was cut off as his body burst into flames, and he screamed in agony as his soul crumbled under the massive wave of power from the hex bag. Lucifer was right, there was no way Crowley was a simple demon.

**Line Break**

Castiel paced as he heard the fighting upstairs. The fledgling, Azrial, he reminded himself, was fidgeting. He hated this. He never liked leaving Sam and Dean to fight alone, not when he could help. A loud bang made Azrial jump, her blue eyes widening.

“We need to help them,” she whispered.

“We were told to stay hidden.” He hated it, but he did respect Bobby enough to listen.

“What if Crow gets hurt?” Castiel frowned at her fussing tone.

“I doubt he will.”

Azrial twisted the tie in her hands, her brow creased. She could clearly pick up his distaste in regards to Crowley. “Well, what if the loud man with green eyes gets hurt? You like him, won’t you be sad if something happens to him?” 

Castiel bit his lip. No. Dean would be  _ fine _ . He was a fighter.

A shotgun blast had Azrial running for the door and yanking it open. All Castiel could do was rush up the stairs after her, grabbing her tiny hand before she exited the basement door.

“Let me go!” She hissed, her eyes shining with tears. “I need to help Crow and Bobby!”

“You need to stay hidden,” Castiel argued. Another shot rang out, and Castiel struggled to keep hold of his sister.

“They  _ need  _ us! What type of angel are you? I’d  _ never _ leave my friends behind!”

Castiel froze at the heated question. He was a warrior, a front line soldier. He was a  _ fighter _ , and he shouldn’t be on the sideline watching a fledgling when his family needed him.

“Stay behind me,” Castiel ordered. “You  _ cannot _ be seen, do you understand me? It will put Crowley and Bobby in danger.”

She frantically nodded, and Castiel was glad the threat to Crowley and Bobby made her listen. He slowly opened the door, careful not to make a sound. He moved forward toward the kitchen and watched as the demon in front of Crowley burst into flames just as he fell to the ground. The other, Meg if he remembered correctly, spun from where she was fighting Sam and Dean. She flicked her wrist sending both flying away and took a threatening step toward Crowley. Her hand was outstretched, ready to attack.

“ _Get_ _away from him!”_

The order was screamed in Enochian, and Meg turned toward him in shock. Her eyes were wide, afraid, and a moment later grace filled the room. Meg was forcefully ejected from the house with a scream of pain. Azrial rushed past his legs and was at Crowley’s side the moment Meg was gone. Her small hands were on Crowley’s bleeding side, and she was crying heavily as the sight of his blood.

“Please, please Crow,” she sobbed. “Stay awake, I can heal you! Gabby taught me how, just stay awake.”

The room was silent, and Castiel swallowed back the wave of sadness at his sister’s frantic movements. She was so innocent right now, not war-hardened and cynical. She simply wanted to help her friend, and nothing else mattered beyond that. He couldn’t ever remember being like that, though he knew at one point he had been. Playing with his siblings and enjoying the world their Father had created. Crowley raised a bloody hand and patted her head gently. 

“Calm down, darling. It will take more than this to kill me.”

Her lip trembled, and Castiel turned away. He didn’t want to see her cry, especially not over Crowley.

“Does it feel better?”

“Of course it does,” Crowley reassured her. “Now, do you have my tie?”

Castiel tuned out the rest of the conversation, though he did notice Bobby walk over and help Crowley to his feet. His sister immediately clung to the demon’s leg and it didn’t seem she’d be letting go anytime soon. 

“Are you alright?” He asked Dean. His friend limped over with a groan of pain.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Stupid bitch threw us into the wall twice. It wasn’t fun the first time, and she used more power the second.”

Castiel reached out and ran a gentle hand over Dean’s ribs. Dean took a deep breath and shot him a dirty look.

“Thank you, but knock it off. You’re on grace rations, remember?”

“I will decide how to use my grace,” Castiel said. They stared at each other for several moments, but Dean looked away with a sigh.

“Somehow I’m attached to the most stubborn angel in the world.”

“I kindly disagree with that,” Crowley huffed. “Azrial was, is, the most stubborn creature I have ever met.”

“How about we just agree all angels are stubborn assholes when they want to be,” Sam sighed. “We need to get out of here. Meg will be back with reinforcements, I’m sure of it.”

“The Moose is right, we should-”

Crowley was cut off by someone knocking loud enough on the door to get everyone’s attention.

“Hello to the house. I’m coming in, and I have a kid with me so please don’t shoot.”

Bobby stood up straighter and Crowley looked exasperated at the voice. Rowen slowly walked in, his hands held high. There was a young girl with him, her hands were clearly visible but she didn’t put them up as Rowen did.

“Where the fuck were you five minutes ago?” Crowley growled. “I may have actually been  _ grateful _ for your presence.”

“He’s not possessed?” Bobby asked, refusing to lower his gun.

“No, he and the girl are fully human. But please, pet, feel free to shoot him anyway.”

Bobby sighed, lowering his gun and slapping Crowley upside the head. Castiel blinked, surprised at the behavior. His eyes moved back toward the girl and he frowned trying to figure out why she looked familiar. Their eyes met, and she paled her mouth moving soundlessly for several moments.

“Dad?”

Oh. Oh  _ fuck _ . Castiel was rooted to his spot, and he frantically grabbed at Dean’s hand, trying to ground himself. 

“I,” Castiel watched as her eyes fell to his hand. He could  _ see _ her heartbreak, and it killed him. “I am not your father, Claire Novak.”

Her face fell, and Castiel didn’t know what to say as her eyes hardened.

“You’re that angel, Castiel, right?”

“I am.”

“You, you  _ bastard _ ! You took my father from me! You’re the reason my mother is dead!”

Castiel didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t known Claire’s mother was dead, and Jimmy being dead was a recent discovery for him. He looked toward Sam and Dean for some guidance. Sam shook his head, a sympathetic look overtaking his face. Dean stepped forward though and looked at Claire.

“I know you’re upset. I can understand it even, but Castiel isn’t the reason your father died.”

“Yeah right,” she scoffed, tears shining in her furious eyes. “If my Dad hadn’t let Castiel in, everything would be fine!”

“Your father died a hero,” Dean said bluntly. Claire stared at him in shock, and Dean took advantage of her silence. “He saved you and your mother. He helped try and take down the damn devil. He loved you enough to stop  _ you _ from having to carry Castiel.”

Claire looked like she was about to argue, but Rowen gently cut her off.

“Claire, remember why we are here. We need to help your friend.”

Rowen’s gentle voice halted Claire, and she slowly nodded. “You’re right. I can do something about that, I can’t do anything about my mom or dad.”

“Very wise,” Rowen agreed and turned toward Bobby. “We have a bigger issue. Azrial is alive.”

There was a pregnant pause. Crowley snorted, and then laughed, shaking his head.

“Yes, we know. She’s right here you blind moron.”

Rowen’s eyes fell to Azrial, who was hiding behind Crowley’s leg. The exorcist stared blankly at her for several moments before slowly turning back to Bobby.

“Is...is that a  _ child _ archangel?” He asked in disbelief.

“Yeah, it’s a long story,” Bobby sighed. “But you clearly didn’t know about her.”

Rowen shook his head. “No. I mean there is an  _ adult _ Azrial. Claire met her.”

Crowley stiffened and narrowed his eyes at Rowen. “I will kill you if you’re playing games with me, Anderson.”

Clarie looked between Crowley and Rowen with a worried expression. “He’s not lying,” she defended him. 

Crowley turned his sharp eyes toward her, and Rowen placed an arm in front of Claire. There was a tense silence when Crowley finally snapped, “Explain.”

“Father Anderson has a stained glass window that shows Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, and Azrial on it,” Clarie explained, her eyes darting between Crowley and the others. “When he showed it to me, well, I realized I’d met Azrial recently.” 

“Where?” Crowley demanded. Claire pulled out her phone and opened it, showing Crowley the lock screen.

“She saved my life, but she said everyone calls her Harley.”

Crowley stared at the photo until a tiny voice broke his focus. “Crow?”

Crowley looked down at the fledgling with warring emotions clear on his face. Castiel wondered what the demon could be thinking. When it was clear Crowley wouldn’t speak, Bobby cut in.

“Ellen mentioned Harley, said she was a biker and that she’d given the woman her name.”

Claire shrugged. “I don’t know. Everyone at Ellen’s bar calls her Harley, but she doesn’t seem to know a whole bunch about herself.”

“Could she have lost her memories?” Sam asked.

“That was my thought,” Rowen admitted. “Claire told me Harley has been hunting. She stopped and helped Claire track down her mother, but when they found her dead, Harley wanted Claire to be safe.”

“So she dropped her off with you,” Bobby summarized. “That makes sense based on what Ellen had been saying. You didn’t meet her?”

“She didn’t feel comfortable coming inside with me,” Claire admitted. “Father Anderson came outside to meet me out front, but Harley never met him.”

“Where would she be now?” Crowley asked tensely.

“Ellen’s bar, I think,” Claire said. Crowley picked up the fledgling and turned toward Bobby.

“We need to get out of here anyway, so we may as well go there.”

Bobby hesitated, but Castiel could see that he agreed with the idea.

“I’ll have to call Ellen. It will be 2 in the morning by the time we get there.”

“Do so,” Crowley tersely replied. “Come, darling, let’s go wait outside.”

The small archangel nodded, snuggling into his chest as Crowley walked out the front door. Sam and Dean exchanged looks but quickly began grabbing their stuff. Castiel followed after them, barely catching Rowen’s next words.

“What do you think Crowley will do if it’s her?”

Castiel was afraid to know the answer to that. He didn’t dare hope this was actually Azrial, not when he’d already been let down today.

**Line Break**

Meg watched the two cars pull away from the scrap yard and she narrowed her eyes. “Where are they going?”

One of the demons with her quickly responded. “There is a hunter bar nearby. It would be a good place to hideout.”

“Track them,” Meg ordered. “Don’t attack until I say so, though.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Lucifer’s new orders rang clear in her head: capture Crowley and Castiel, and kill all the humans. Leave no witnesses.

She’d take great pleasure in fulfilling her Father’s wishes.

  
  



	8. Knocking on Death's Door

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we're getting to the end of Arc 2. There will be another Haitus between Arc 2 and 3, more details to come.
> 
> TW/CW: blood, gore, and violence

_ 2 AM, April 4, 2010 _

Sam looked up at the distinct rumble of a motorcycle passing the Impala. Considering Dean was going 20 over the speed limit, that was rather impressive. The car picked up speed as well, and Sam looked over to see the biker turn their head toward them.

“Dean,” Sam warned. “There’s a kid in the car.”

His brother snorted but didn’t let up on the gas. The biker had a full-face helmet, but it was clear she was a rather lean woman. She sped up further, pushing 100 if his glance at the Impala’s speedometer was anything to go by, and darted into the right lane. It effectively cut Dean off, and the biker took off at the same breakneck speed.

“Five bucks says we know who that is,” Dean whispered.

Sam frowned as the biker disappeared in the distance. “How much farther to Ellen’s?”

“Less than half an hour. The kid still asleep?”

Sam glanced back to see Claire curled into Castiel’s side. She was sound asleep, and Castiel seemed to be dozing as well.

“Yeah, seems so.”

“That’s good.”

Silence hung over the car, and Sam glanced out the rearview mirror. He could see Rowen’s rental following behind them. This whole situation was bizarre. For one moment, one wonderful moment, it seemed their lives were going back to normal. Well, at least as normal as their lives had been before angels and demons became a common fixture. Then it all fell apart. Sam wanted to scream and bitch about how unfair it was, but at the same time he was too tired to bother. Shit things kept happening in their lives and somewhere along the line, Sam had started taking it in stride. It was either that or get thrown into a mental ward for losing his mind.

“We’re here.”

Sam shook his head and looked over as Rowen parked next to them. Dean leaned back and gently shook Claire’s shoulder. “Come on, kid. Time to introduce us to your friend.”

Claire mumbled something but slowly got up. She looked out the window, and the sight of the motorcycle parked on the other side of the Impala had her perking up. She pushed open the door and scrambled toward the bar door before Dean could get another word in. 

“She seems excited,” Castiel said softly. Dean snorted and pulled himself out of the car and Sam followed. He looked over to see Bobby stepping out of the car and to Sam’s surprise Crowley handed off the sleeping archangel child to him. It was so  _ weird _ to see Crowley being considerate and kind. 

“You coming?” Dean asked as he walked into the bar. Sam pulled his eyes away from Bobby and Crowley as Rowen walked over. 

“Yeah, coming.”

Rowen let them enter first and Sam froze in the doorway as he watched Claire slam into the woman who’d just stood up from the bar. Her hair wasn’t anywhere near as neat as he’d seen, and her clothes were much closer to the quality he and Dean wore, but there was no mistaking who the dark haired woman was.

“Fuck, Crowley’s gonna flip,” Dean whispered from his side. Sam gave a slow nod, but tried to mask his surprise. The woman was running her hands over Claire’s shoulders, and her face was pinched with worry. Her blue eyes lifted, and they narrowed in silent fury.

“You!” She snarled, storming up to them. Sam froze again, but she walked right past him and to his surprise slapped Rowen with enough force to make the exorcist take a step back.

“Well, well,” a soft purr came from the door. “Tonight just got better.”

Sam shot Crowley a warning look. The demon’s eyes were a dark storm of emotions as he moved further into the bar, not commenting further. Bobby guided him, clearly avoiding any traps that may have been laid out. The small archangel was once more curled into the demon’s arms, and she seemed to be squirming and looking around the place uncomfortably. Bobby moved over to Ellen, who looked shocked by the outburst.

“I ride 28 hours  _ one way _ to bring Claire to you, something I was reluctant to do from the beginning,” the woman snarled. Rowen tried to back away from the furious assault but she grabbed his shirt and dragged him down by the collar to look in her eyes. “And you, you stupid, moronic,  _ Vatican pig _ , bring her back here?”

“Harley,” Clarie ran up to her, stopping the woman from smacking Rowen again. “I asked him to bring me. There’s something you need to know.”

Her eyes fell to Claire, and Sam watched her furious expression melt at the girl’s pleading. It was like night and day. Like how Bobby used to look at him and Dean after threatening to shoot their Dad.

“Why didn’t you just call me?” Harley gently asked, letting Rowen go. “You have my number, and you know it’s not safe to be around hunters until you know what killed your mom and what happened to your dad.”

“I know what happened to my dad now,” Clarie quietly answered. “He’s gone too.”

Harley’s face fell, and she turned fully to Clarie. “I’m sorry, kid. That still doesn’t explain why you came back though.”

“That would be my fault,” Rowen voiced. Harley’s eyes narrowed on him, but she didn’t seem inclined to attack him anymore as Clarie leaned into her side. “Harley, there are things going on, big things, and we think you may be part of them.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t even  _ know _ you.” She huffed, and turned around pulling Clarie with her. “Come on, kid. Maybe it’s best you stick with me after all.” 

Clarie bit her lip and looked around the room unsure what to do. Her eyes met Crowley’s, and to Sam’s surprise it seemed to make the girl stop. Harley looked down at Claire in concern, her brows creased in confusion.

“Claire, do you want to stay with Anderson?”

“No, yes...I don’t know!” Claire admitted, wringing her hands. “Harley, this is important. I know you don’t trust Father Anderson, but you trust me, right?”

Harley sat down at one of the open tables, her face set in a thoughtful look. “I trust you mean well, Clarie. What is this about? And why couldn’t you just call or text me?”

Claire looked to them for help, but Sam wasn’t sure what he could say. Rowen wasn’t likely to be believed, and they couldn’t use Azrial’s goodwill for Crowley in this situation. What the hell were they supposed to do?

“Crow,” the tiny archangel’s whisper barely reached Sam. There was a soft panic laced in her voice though, and it put him on edge. “Crow, there’s something wrong with her. She’s  _ sick _ .”

Sick? Sam shot Dean a look, wondering if his brother had heard the exchange. Dean gave a slight nod, his brows creased. Bobby stepped up when it was clear that Claire was struggling how to respond.

“Look, the world is ending.” Bobby bluntly cut in. Harley tilted her head, clearly willing to listen. “We,” he gestured to everyone standing around her. “Tried to stop it. Our...friend, we thought she lost her life in another attempt.”

“What does that have to do with me? I’m sorry for your loss, but if you think I can-”

“Bloody hell,” Crowley exhaled loudly. Harley looked at him strangely, and Crowley met her eyes dead on. “Our-” he paused and sighed. “Friend, she was the archangel Azrial. We  _ know _ she survived because she’s sitting in front of us.”

Harley’s brows creased and she looked at all of them strangely. When it was clear they all agreed with Crowley, she let out a sharp laugh.

“You’re kidding me, right? You’re trying to tell me I’m some angel?”

Claire quietly spoke up at her disbelief. “That’s what happened to my dad. He was an angel vessel, his.” She pointed at Castiel, and Sam saw the brief look of pain that cut over his friend’s face.

“This is insane,” Harley said bluntly, but her voice lacked conviction. 

“You don’t know who you are, do you?” Bobby carefully asked. Harley frowned, but let out a frustrated sigh.

“So what? I’m not the only person out in the world with amnesia. That doesn’t make me a damn angel!”

“Please,” Rowen cut in again. “Just listen to us. Everyone here has mourned you, and I know it’s hard-”

Harley stood up, glaring at Rowen. “You know? That seems a bit too convenient. Look, I’m leaving.” Harley turned toward Claire, “Are you coming?”

Claire looked defeated, but at the same time she didn’t seem touched by the sense of loss that washed over their group as she stepped forward. Sam wanted to say something to try and help convince her to stay, but nothing came to mind. Crowley stepped forward, but before he could say anything the whole bar seemed to shudder.

“The hell was that?” Dean demanded.

“The wards,” Ellen cut in for the first time. “We’re under attack.”

“Twice in one night?” Rowen stated in disbelief. “What the hell did you all do?”

“Oi, we didn’t do shit!” Dean argued as the wards shuddered again. There was a harsh creak, and Ellen looked over to Jo.

“Get the kids out of here!” She ordered. Jo shot forward, grabbing Claire’s hand. She moved forward to take the tiny archangel from Crowley, but she clung tightly to the demon.

“No! I’m staying!” 

Castiel looked pale as he tried to argue with her. “You need to go with them. Remember what we talked about at the house? It’s not safe for Bobby and Crowley.”

“It wasn’t safe without me!” the child argued back. The wards gave another shuddering creak, and Sam realized they didn’t have time to argue.

“Go!” He yelled to Jo and Claire. Jo nodded and dragged Claire toward the back as Harley pulled out a machete that had been strapped against her leg.

“Stay hidden,” he heard Crowley whisper to the small archangel. She nodded, and to Sam’s shock she vanished from sight. He doubted she’d gone far, but at least she wouldn’t be an overt target.

“What the hell is attacking you?” Harley demanded.

“Demons,” Bobby bluntly responded as he pulled his gun. “You sure you’re up for this, princess?”

Harley’s eyes flashed with annoyance, but she gripped her blade tightly. “Damn right I am, but when this is over I want an actually fucking explanation.”

“You can have it,” Crowley snapped. “But only if you’re willing to  _ listen _ .”

Before Harley could say another word the doors to the bar slammed open, and Meg stepped in flanked by six demons.

“You five really are a pain in the ass,” Meg sighed and looked to the other demons with her. “Kill all but the traitor and angel.”

Sam barely had time to brace himself as a demon attacked him head on.

**Line Break**

Ellen barely had time to pull her shotgun as the demons plowed into her bar. She shot off a round at one of them just as Harley leapt at another with reckless abandon. The woman was crazy, but in this situation it seemed to be a good thing. The demon was shocked by the frontal attack, and the machete decapitated it with the same quick efficiency it would a vamp.

“Holy shit!” Dean’s voice could be heard over the sound of gun fire and screams.

“Duck!” The shout was Dean’s only warning as Harley launched past him, kicking a demon that had been about to attack.

“Kill her, you idiots!” Meg screamed. She looked furious at Harley’s assault, but it had bought them a few precious seconds. A demon went to stab Harley from behind, but he burst into flames with an agonized scream. Harley looked over briefly, and Crowley just smirked as he focused on attacking the demon in control. Ellen shot off another blast of rocksalt, and was surprised when Meg tried to push past Crowley to get to Bobby, but Crowley wouldn’t let her get close. Ellen aimed her shotgun again as Sam struggled with another demon. They were down to 4 on 8 odds, but the demons had wised up to Harley’s forward attacks. She was struggling to get in close enough to bring down another. The one she focused on couldn’t move on anyone else though, which Ellen was grateful for. 

“Sam, duck!” she yelled, and shot as soon as he did. It hit the demon right in the face, and Harley changed targets without hesitation. Another head rolled across the floor, but Harley was thrown back into the bar by another demon. Ellen had to side step to avoid being brought down as the woman’s back hit the bar counter.

“Fucking assholes,” Harley growled, struggling back to her feet.

“Psst!” Both women froze, and Ellen almost had a heart attack as she saw the tiny child that had been clinging to Crowley peek her head up from the other side of the bar.

“What are you doing?” Ellen hissed through the corner of her mouth as she shot another demon. Harley was watching her flank, and Ellen was grateful for it. It seemed the demons didn’t want to get in swinging range of the vicious hunter.

“Crow said to give this to you,” she said to Harley. The child pushed a bronze blade over the counter before disappearing again. Harley only hesitated a moment before grabbing the new weapon. She shifted her stance to accommodate the second blade as one of the demon’s finally decided to try and get close to them. Harley lashed out as soon as it was within reach.

Ellen wasn’t ready for the way the demon screamed, its eyes flashing as the bronze blade went through its throat. 3 to 8 odds now.

“That’s an archangel blade,” Meg’s voice cracked in shock. Harley gripped it tighter, though Ellen noticed her hand was shaking now. Crowley lashed out at Meg, but the demon stepped out of his grip. Her eyes narrowed on Harley before they shifted to Ellen.

“Enough of this,” Meg hissed. Ellen aimed her gun as the demon launched at her, too surprised to do more than shoot. Why was she being attacked? She’d practically been ignored up until this point! Hands shoved her out of the way, and Ellen stumbled to the floor as Harley tried to turn toward the demon.

Tried.  _ Tried _ . 

Meg’s blade sunk deep into her side, and Harley screamed. The fighting paused and Ellen could see Crowley stiffen from the corner of her eye. Meg noticed as well and yanked Harley infront of her with the blade still buried in her side.

“Enough! I’m so  _ sick _ of you morons ruining my day,” she snarled.

“Bitch,” Crowley growled back, his eyes flashing a murderous red. Ellen found herself fearing him for the first time since he’d stepped into her bar. She’d forgotten, just for a moment because of the child clinging to him, that Crowley wasn’t human. He was a demon, just like the one’s attacking them now. 

“Be nice, Crowley,” Meg playfully reprimanded, twisting the blade deeper into Harley’s side. Harley screamed, her voice practically hoarse as her hair was yanked back to keep her standing. The two weapons she held clattered to the ground, and Meg kicked the bronze blade away.

“Pick that up,” she ordered. One of the demon’s obediently scrambled forward, but the blade vanished from sight. 

“What-?”

The demon looked back at Meg whose face was pinched in fury. Her eyes moved back to Crowley, who still hadn’t moved. Ellen could see his hand shaking as his fingers flexed. He was waiting for an opening, she realized. 

“She means that much to you, Crowley?” Meg mocked. The room was almost silent. No one was willing to move while Meg had a hostage, but Ellen could see everyone was ready to at the first available opening. There was nothing she could do from this angle without hurting Harley. She could see Sam and Dean were in the same situation, and Rowen was too far away. Bobby was slowly shifting his position so he had a clear shot at Meg’s exposed side. He looked as furious as Crowley, to Ellen’s surprise.

“I  _ will _ kill you,” Crowley promised. “If you don’t want it to be  _ agonizing _ , you’ll drop the woman.”

Meg seemed to consider the threat for a moment. “You know what?” She asked, as Bobby slowly pulled his second gun. Ellen felt a primal sense of fear fill her at the way the two demons were facing off. Meg gripped the blade tightly, as if she was holding the handle of a leaver, glaring at Crowley. “Let’s see if you actually have some bite.”

Ellen couldn’t pull her eyes away as Meg shoved the blade forward from where it was embedded in Harley’s side, closest to her back, straight out the front of the woman’s stomach. The agonized scream as Harley collapsed to the ground, her side gouged open, was followed by a gun going off. The bar once more descended into chaos, and Ellen scrambled forward to help Harley. The woman was dry heaving, somewhere between sobbing and choking as she struggled to keep breathing. Ellen pulled her toward the bar, and was surprised when the child showed up at her side once more.

“She’s dying,” the child whispered. Ellen looked down at her, and for the first time noticed the resemblance between Harley and the child. Was she their kid? The thought brought a wave of guilt crashing over her as Ellen ripped the first aid kit out from under the bar.

“It won’t work,” the child sadly informed her. Ellen did her best to ignore the pessimism as she yanked out the only clotting bandage she had in the kit, and pressed the large cloth against Harley’s side. The woman cried out in agony, but her screams were echoed by someone else’s. Ellen looked up just in time to see Meg catch fire, but it wasn’t like the other demons who’d died quickly. Crowley had his hand around her throat, pinning the demon to the wall. 

“He’s hurting,” the child said. “This lady means a lot to him.”

“Then we have to keep her alive,” Ellen whispered. She looked away from Crowley, away from the demon he was slowly burning alive, and focused on Harley. She wasn’t stupid. Harley was on the ground because she’d gotten between Meg and her. Crowley, for all his seemingly bottomless understanding for Bobby, wouldn’t hesitate to kill  _ her _ if Harley died. She doubted anyone in the bar, besides the woman bleeding out on the floor, could stop him either. Maybe Bobby could, a strong  _ maybe _ , but he’d likely have to give something up and Ellen wasn’t willing to put him in that position. 

“Come on,” Ellen begged. “Stay alive.”

Harley’s eyes were glassy, whether from tears or the fact she was knocking on Death’s door, Ellen wasn’t sure. Her lips were bloody, but they twitched up in a macabre smile.

“Saved your ass,” the woman whispered. Ellen swallowed, putting more pressure on the wound. The blood was already seeping through the bandage, the clotting agent doing nothing for the massive wound. Ellen kept one hand on the bandage, her other shaking slightly as she grabbed the glass vial of adrenaline from the kit. A wave of panic washed over her as she realized she couldn’t hold the wound and fill the needle.

“Give me the vial.”

Bobby’s gruff voice almost made her jump, but the wave of relief that washed over her was a physical force. She passed him the vial and with a quite calm that she envied he filled the needle. 

“Adrenaline or morphine?” Bobby demanded.

“Adrenaline.”

He moved Harley’s arm and without hesitating inserted the needle into the skin between her forearm and bicep. The moment the liquid entered her, Harley’s arm seemed to spasm as she took in a greedy gulp of air.

“Steady,” Bobby said softly and turned back to her. “Morphine?”

Ellen nodded, and groped for the other vial. Her fingers wrapped around the cool glass and she passed it to Bobby. 

“Not...worth it,” Harley gasped out. Bobby’s eyes hardened as he filled the next needle.

“Sorry, princess. That ain’t your call.” 

The hard edge to Bobby’s voice surprised Ellen. There was no room for argument, nothing Harley could say to make him think differently. It was simply an absolute statement.

Why? What was so-?

Harley’s hand, likely aided largely by the adrenaline, gripped Bobby’s wrist before he could insert the needle. Her eyes were as hard as his, and her words were garbled as blood dripped down her mouth.

“Save it, they,” she coughed and the blood in her mouth sprayed down her shirt. Her fingers fell from Bobby’s wrist, and that’s all he needed. Before Harley could object again the needle was in her arm.

“You don’t get to go off and die on me  _ again, _ ” Bobby snarled softly. “One damn suicide note was enough.”

Ellen looked at Bobby, not sure what to say to his declaration. He’d known what happened to Azrial and hadn't told her? Hell, it seemed he knew  _ exactly _ when she’d gone off on her stupid suicide mission.

“Don’t even know…” Harley trailed off, and Bobby’s hand shook as he pulled out the needle.

“Harley?”

Bobby’s prompting went unanswered, and a shadow was looming over them a moment later. Ellen looked up and paled as she met Crowley’s red eyes. He looked a cross between murderous and broken. His hands were covered in blood and he smelled of burning flesh. 

“She’s dead.”

The blunt statement from the demon made Bobby’s eyes shut. He ran a hand over his face and looked as dejected as Crowley.

“No. She isn’t.”

Both men looked over to the child who’d remained silent up until that point. She was looking at Harley with a calculating expression as if she was trying to riddle out a puzzle.

“You can heal her?” Bobby’s voice cracked with a touch of hope. The child tilted her head and looked up at Crowley.

“She isn’t sick anymore.” Crowley frowned as the child hesitantly scooted closer. She looked up at her. “Move please.”

Ellen realized if Harley  _ was _ dead there wasn’t much need to hold onto the wound. If she wasn’t, well, she hoped the child could actually heal her. Ellen moved aside, and the child placed her tiny hands against the blood soaked bandage. She took a deep breath, and then her eyes opened and shone a bright silver. The lights in the bar flickered and suddenly a massive shadow hung over all of them. Ellen looked behind them and stared.

The shadowy figure was massive, casting the whole bar in its darkness. It had the same silver eyes as the child and six massive shadowy wings. It’s hands rested around Harley, cradling her.

“Crowley,” Bobby choked out. “Is that-?”

“She’s so dramatic,” Crowley laughed. It was a strange sound that Ellen realized sounded closer to gasping for air then a laugh. “It’s only a shadow, but yes, that’s Azrial.”

Ellen swallowed and her eyes darted around the bar. The shadow touched everything, and even the lights were dimmed by it. She looked back to the child just in time for her to speak.

“Wake up.”

It was eerie, like a child in a horror movie, but the bar lit up with so much light Ellen had to cover her eyes. There was a high pitched sound, like someone had left a whistling kettle next to the world’s most sensitive microphone and allowed it to blare out all around them. When she couldn’t see the light through her closed eyelids Ellen slowly opened them, blinking away the spots in her vision.

“Where am I?” Harley’s voice broke the silence. “How did I-? Bobby, Crowley? What are you both doing here?”

“Azrial?” Bobby tentatively asked. The child looked over at the same time as Harley. 

“Well, no shit.” Harley snarked. “Who else would I be? Gabriel?”

The sarcasm seemed to knock the last of the worry out of Bobby, and he fell back on his ass, letting out a quiet laugh. Harley, Azrial, Ellen corrected herself, looked up at Crowley strangely.

“You look like shit,” she bluntly informed the demon.

Bobby snorted, and Crowley frowned even though his eyes seemed to glow behind his annoyed look.

“And you’re a bloody fucking mess, as per usual, Azrial.”

Ellen glowered at the insult, but Azrial just laughed. It turned into a coughing fit but her eyes shone with unrestrained power. Her bloody lips quirked up as she looked between Crowley and Bobby.

“And you’re still a bastard. So, what did I do to deserve being doted on by two handsome men?”

  
  



End file.
